


The Quiet One

by Kereea



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Battle for the Cowl, Brotherly Love, FormerTalon!Dick, Gen, batfamily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-26 22:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kereea/pseuds/Kereea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Young Damian now stays with his father in Gotham. Two of his older “brothers” don’t like him, but the oldest is different…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

Chapter 1

Damian knew all about Dick Grayson. He knew the press story: that Bruce Wayne had wanted to adopt him after his parents were killed, someone else in the circus was a relative and kept him, the boy was abused and Bruce got custody from the ringleader, who’d been “surprised and concerned” to find out about said abuse.

He also knew the truth—that Dick Grayson had been taken by a group that brainwashed certain people into killing machines and Batman had rescued him before he was fully lost to their control. 

And finally, he knew that he’d been here for three months and only had four words said to him by the man: “Hello, Damian” when they’d met and “have fun” when his father had cleared time to spar with him and Grayson had passed them on his way to patrol.

Oddly enough, Grayson seemed the least adverse to his presence among his new “brothers.” Jason (whom Damian could not refer to by a last name due to it being ‘Wayne’ by adoption) tended to keep his distance, but it was clear that he would be willing to strike Damian if the younger went after Drake again. Knowing how hard Jason hit was probably the second reason Damian didn’t go after his new worst enemy, and the first was his father’s clear disapproval.

It was obvious his father was grooming Drake to become Batman. While the boy’s fighting skills were clearly lacking, in his detective abilities he easily outstripped Jason’s—not that the older boy was completely stupid or anything, but he was nowhere near Drake’s level. Evidently his father thought Drake’s combat abilities would improve with time. 

Therefore, Damian tended to gloat whenever he figured something out before Drake, since it was the teen’s place in the family to be ‘the smart one’ and it obviously rattled him a bit to have his place usurped by a ten year old. 

“Hey, squirt, you seen Timmy around here?”

Damian looked up at Jason with a scowl. The redhead just loved to make cracks about his height…or current lack thereof. “Did you somehow manage to misplace your little brother?”

“Cute,” Jason said with that tight smile that Damian had to admit would probably strike fear into a cowardly criminal’s heart. “So, he’s not down here being all Tim-ish on a case or calling Bruce on the coms?”

“No, Drake is not here, he is communicating with his teammates in his room,” Damian said. “I believe he has ceased overanalyzing his latest screw up.”

Jason went to rap him on the head, Damian caught his hand. 

“Look, kid, stop this little ‘I shall gloat about solving all cases I solve before Timmy’ thing. It’s driving him nuts and it’s on my nerves,” Jason said.

“I am not gloating. I’m stating the fact that I found the main racketeer first,” Damian replied. “Maybe Drake just needs to stop being bothered by it.”

“Listen you little brat. I’ll make this clear. No one, no one really wants-”

“Jason.”

It was soft, and the voice was a little raw, underused. But it made Jason let go of Damian’s collar and Damian found himself releasing the redhead’s other hand. 

“Dick,” Jason acknowledged, looking shamed. 

“Go find Tim,” the oldest offered. “I’ll…” He nodded awkwardly at Damian.

Jason raised an eyebrow, but went when Grayson jerked his head at the cave entrance, his expression becoming a bit sterner. 

Damian stared at his ‘oldest brother’ contemplatively. Dick Grayson was smaller than Jason, wirier in build, most likely due to his acrobatics training, and clearly did not present the physical threat to Jason that Jason presented to Damian (at least without Damian being allowed to inflict a lethal technique in retaliation). Yet Jason immediately bowed to him, allowed the quiet man to dictate his movements. 

Grayson smiled, apparently realizing he was being analyzed, and sat across from Damian. “Conclusions?”

Damian jerked. He hadn’t expected Grayson to be so blunt. “There is obviously more to you than just physical ability, since Todd could probably overpower you, yet listens to you at the drop of a hat.”

Grayson just chuckled, “Oh, Dami.”

Damian’s eyes widened. How did Grayson know his mother’s nickname for him? Or was it just the most obvious way of shortening his name and Grayson was trying to be familiar? “Oh, what?”

Perhaps this could offer some insight into Grayson’s mindset or the family dynamics. He clearly was not handling either properly.

“You’re so cute,” Dick laughed. The man grabbed him and Damian knocked him away with a firm uppercut, before dropping into a defensive stance. He knew Grayson’s past, knew what he could do. 

Grayson rubbed his jaw for a moment before laughing. “Hug gets a punch, huh?”

Damian blinked. A hug? The man had been trying to hug him? The angle had been a bit odd, but he supposed it made enough sense… “I don’t do hugs.”

“You will,” Grayson said. “Official Nightwing policy.” He turned to leave. “Sorry for the startle.”

“I-I was not startled!” Damian yelled. 

He heard Grayson laugh again, and was pretty sure he heard another mutter of “so cute.”

.o.o.o.

“How was the little demon?” Jason asked as Dick appeared in the kitchen. 

Dick shot him a look.

“…Little demon who is also our little brother,” Jason amended. 

“Think we had a moment,” Dick replied, digging around in the cabinets. “Tim?”

“Fine, was talking to Beast Boy about a mission. Damn, kid hasn’t been the same since Connor…you know,” Jason said. 

“They were close,” Dick said. “Like you and Kyle and Donna.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, not willing to stay on the topic of ‘friends who did or could die’. “So, had a ‘moment’ with Damian, did you?”

“He’s cute,” Dick said.

“Cute?” Jason asked. “He threw Timmy off the dinosaur! And I know he only hasn’t gone for me because I’d beat the tar out of him!”

“He’s cute like you were,” Dick said. “Trying to be tough and not need anyone.”

Jason squirmed. “Oh, no, tell me I was not as bad as that one. Please, Dick, I’ll clean your room or let you make me do aerials or something but please.”

Dick smiled. “Bad in different ways.” He looped an arm around Jason and nuzzled his hair a bit, not tall enough to reach the top of his head anymore. “It’s adorable.”

“Dick, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re crazy,” Jason said. 

Dick just waved and wandered off, probably to perform his own check-up on Tim. 

Jason squirmed slightly as his big brother left. He remembered being scared when he came to this big house, waiting for the other shoe to drop. After all, he’d tried to take the tires off the godamned Batmobile and was being rewarded? Get out.

He hadn’t known that Bruce had been drafting adoption papers back then. He’d barely even seen him as Bruce Wayne at all—the society parties scared him, so mostly he knew Batman, the man hoped to partner with. He hadn’t thought he’d fit in Bruce’s other world.

He remembered hiding in his room during one of them parties, feeling like shit. Then someone was hugging him and there was a face buried in his hair. 

Bruce hadn’t ever hugged him yet, just an arm around the shoulder or a pat on the back or head. This was a full-body ‘I’m not letting go until I know you’re okay’ hug.

He’d figured out it was Dick—the boy had scars on his arms that were pretty noticeable when he wore tank tops—and he remembered choking out some version of “why?”

“You’re my little brother and I love you,” Dick said. Jason remembered how childish it had sounded. “You love me?”

He’d nodded, and received another little nuzzle in return. 

Dick had made a sort of pleased noise. “Bruce loves you too. He’s bad at showing, but he loves you.”

Jason had paused. “Have…we ever talked before?” He’d seen the kid around the manor but he wasn’t sure they’re really…talked.

“Nope,” Dick had agreed. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Jason had confessed, hugging his brother back. 

Jason shook himself out of the memory. Bruce had taught him to protect and given him a chance, but Dick had made him Robin. It wasn’t until he’d given the name down to Timmy that he’d even known that it had come from Dick’s mom. 

“Jason? You all right?” 

“Huh?” he looked up from his sandwich. Bruce looked concerned. “I’m fine Dad, really.”

An appraising look. “I see. Well, get some sleep. I’ve got a plan to dislodge the drug runners near the docks tomorrow and I’ll need you and your brothers in top form.”

“Batgirl and Spoiler handling the streets?” Jason asked.

“That’s the plan. Tim in bed yet?”

“I think Dick went to make him. The kid forgets he has school,” Jason shrugged. “It happens.”

“I remember Dick suggesting we drug a certain seventh grader with caffeine,” Bruce replied. 

“That wasn’t my Robin schedule, that was a really boring science teacher combined with the fact that you’d moved me past basic bio ages before,” Jason replied. “Speaking of schooling kiddies…what about the one in the cave?”

“Damian’s down in the cave?” Bruce asked. “I’ll go get him. He needs to get to bed too.”

“I noticed I didn’t get an answer!” Jason called after him. Not that he needed an answer.

One didn’t exactly send assassins to elementary school, after all.


	2. Chapter 2: The Bike

“Where are you all going?”

Jason and Tim went stone still. Bruce eyed Damian, clearly not too willing to tell the sword-happy child enough mission details. The two exchanged glances before looking at Dick, who was sitting on the hood of the Batmobile and didn’t seem to have noticed any of the tension. 

“We’ve got a major operation,” Bruce said, carefully gauging Damian’s reaction. 

“I…see,” Damian said. Tim could tell by the slight dip of his chin and set of his shoulders that the kid had determined that he wasn’t being invited but would argue it anyway. “May I come?”

“No, Damian,” Bruce said simply. He went back to suiting up. “Jason, you fixed that crack in your helmet, right?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, pulling on the signature article of the Red Hood. Right, if that was how Bruce wanted to play it, that was how they’d play it. 

“Fine,” Damian said stiffly, and turned to leave.

Tim shook his head and went back to checking his utility belt. “So, Jay, you’re using the mini-sub to get under third dock, right?”

“Yeah, third one. Dick?” Jason asked as the oldest brother brushed past him. 

“Left something upstairs,” Dick said.

“This is why we don’t put too many weapons in our rooms, Dick!” Tim called teasingly. Jason punched him lightly, and they went back to plotting the downfall of a drug ring.

.o.o.o.

“Baby bird, wait up.”

Damian stopped. Grayson bounded up beside him—the boy noted that the man seemed much more energetic with a mission imminent. “Great, listen, you like tech, yeah?”

“Yes,” Damian said, quietly cataloguing that his dialogue with Grayson had somehow exponentially increased this week. 

“Well, my bike’s making noise,” Dick said. “And I don’t really…get bikes. Just ride them. You mind?”

Damian frowned at the obvious attempt to take his mind off not being invited on an important mission. “Grayson, I’ll get over it. I’m never invited anyways.”

“…It really is making noise,” Grayson offered, before wandering back down the hall. 

Damian huffed. Grayson may have offered placation, which was more than his father did, but it was still just an obvious appeasement to be given so Damian wouldn’t think about the mission. 

He didn’t need to be appeased. He needed to be taken seriously. 

On the other hand, if Grayson counted it as a favor…perhaps he could he coaxed into helping Damian get some field time. He did seem over-eager to be friendly, perhaps Damian could use that.

He went to get his tools.

.o.o.o.

“So, you went to talk to Damian,” Bruce said, steering the Batmobile towards their destination.

Dick shrugged. “Asked if he’d fix my bike.”

Bruce looked surprised. “Your bike needs fixing? You didn’t say anything.”

“It’s...too noisy. For me. Thought he could do something,” Dick replied. 

“Hmm. He’s never shown an interest in mechanics, as far as I’ve seen.”

“Bunch of blueprints. Sock drawer.”

Bruce stared at Dick. “You…went through Damian’s sock drawer?”

“I was putting in fun socks.”

Bruce sighed, so that was where those bright socks with ducks and pandas had come from. Damian had come downstairs demanding who the wise guy was. Then again, Dick also “complained” about Tim’s neutral wardrobe too by constantly replacing tops with bright and unusual t-shirts on him, so it wasn’t that out of character. 

“So, mechanics?”

“Yup. Asking for a flying bike for Christmas,” Dick said, flashing that teasing grin. 

Bruce filed it away. Maybe it was something he could share with Damian that the boy wouldn’t push towards lethal ends.

.o.o.o.

“Master Damian, good heavens!” Alfred exclaimed as his youngest charge entered the kitchen covered in what looked like motor oil and grease.

“Pennyworth, please tell Grayson his bike won’t be serviceable for a day or so. I had to take half of it apart to get to the problem,” Damian said, grabbing a napkin so he wouldn’t smudge the fridge when he opened it. 

“Problem?” Alfred asked, handing Damian a glass for his juice.

“He said it was making noise. Something somebody put in to give it a turbo option was rubbing slightly against the fuel boosters when inactive and the gear shafts were…anyway, give me a day or so,” the child grumbled. “And a trip to a reputable hardware store.”

“Well, I think it’s very kind of you to help your brother out,” Alfred said. 

“He’s not my brother,” Damian huffed.

Alfred sighed; of course, Damian’s ‘I’m the only real son’ argument again. “Well, it is a kind gesture nonetheless. I know a store and am free to take you around two in the afternoon tomorrow, should you wish.”

“That would be adequate.”

.o.o.o.

“What is that?”

Tim glanced up. Jason was apparently coming around from the sedatives—the idiot had cracked several ribs, again, and pointing at a pile of scrap over Tim’s shoulder. “I think it was Dick’s bike.”

“…Dick crash it or something?” Jason asked woozily. “Oh, wait, shit. Did we get them? What happened? Where’s Dick? Where’s Bruce?”

“Ring busted, Nightwing’s catching a few runaways, Batman is with the commissioner, and you’re benched for two nights,” Tim said. 

“Oh…Dick didn’t take his bike tonight,” Jason muttered, his brain finally catching up. “And it was fine before we…that little shit.”

“Now we don’t know…” Tim said, unsuccessfully trying to convince both Jason and himself that it hadn’t been Damian. They both knew—Alfred might occasionally work on the vehicles, but he didn’t leave them like that—and if he absolutely had to there’d be a tarp or something. 

“Dick’s fucking nice to him and he goes and breaks his bike? Why I oughta…”

“Young Master Damian did not break Master Richard’s motorcycle, Master Jason.”

Tim turned to take some towels from Alfred, who had come up behind them. 

Jason rubbed his face with one, the warm, damp cloth taking off the dried sweat. “He didn’t?” He gestured to the wreckage pile.

“He is attempting to fix some problem Richard had with the bike—he thinks it will take another day or so and needs some more parts to do it. Though I do wish he’d gotten a tarp,” Alfred sighed, placing one over the mangled pile. “And perhaps done the work in the garage instead of the cave…”

“I was trying to be more efficient.”

Tim looked up to see Damian staring at him and Jason. The kid frowned. “Where is Grayson?”

“Still out. Like I should be,” Jason said. 

“Not with three cracked ribs you shouldn’t, Master Jason,” Alfred said, setting down Tim’s medical report. “You will go up to bed. Do you need assistance?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Jason said. 

“Why were you looking for Dick?” Tim asked Damian.

“To apologize for his bike being out of commission. I thought I could fix it in one night and was…mistaken,” Damian said stiffly. 

Tim and Damian both basked in the awkward silence for a little while before Tim headed over to the computer for his report and Damian pushed the tarp away to check some parts.

.o.o.o.

“Thanks for trying.”

“It will be fixed when you return tonight,” Damian said hotly. 

“Not an insult,” Dick sighed. “So like Jason…”

“The latter was an insult—ow!” Damian rubbed the back of his head. Dick was giving him a look. “What?”

“Brothers play nice,” Dick said sternly, pulling on his gloves. Damian looked at the clawed fingers—quite a few rogues and random criminals bore scratches from dealing with Nightwing. The Escrima sticks were kinder, but still painful. 

“I see,” Damian said finally, going back to the bike. “Richard…”

“Dick.”

“Dick,” Damian forced out. “Do you think Father will ever let me in the field?”

Dick shrugged apologetically. “No idea.”

Damian nodded. He was learning to watch Dick’s body language for proper communication purposes. 

Dick ruffled his hair, the taloned fingers not touching his scalp. “Have fun.”

.o.o.o.

“Okay, I might let the demon near my bike next, Dick, Dick!” Jason whined as Dick seized his ear and gave him a stern look. “I’m not going to get over calling him that in two nights because you say so!”

Dick smirked, “Oldest.” He went to go check his new, very nice-looking bike. 

“Look on the bright side,” Tim said. “He was too busy doing that to plot against you or me.”

“I can hear you!” Damian yelled from the tool room.

“No fighting,” Bruce said. “Something big is going on—the JLA’s going to look at it. Alfred is in charge, Oracle second.”

“Got it,” Jason sighed as their father left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who looked at the tags knows what Bruce is going to deal with.


	3. Chapter 3: Crisis Missed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Gotham gets left out of Final Crisis, with major consequences.

Damian as always took pride that he’d solved a case before Drake. Sure, he’d needed to sneak out to look at crime scene himself but technically he was street-banned, not look-at-scene banned.

He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, only to relax at the familiar sharp gloves.

Grayson smiled, “Nice job.”

Damian stared at him. While his father and occasionally Alfred praised the progress he made in his martial arts and detective work, he wasn’t used to it from one of his ‘brothers.’ The fact that Grayson was vocalizing the pride was just as curious. “Oh…thank you.”

“How’d you know?” Grayson asked, sitting next to him on the ledge. Damian supposed street-banned meant he wasn’t supposed to be on skyscrapers, but after his and Drake’s fight he’d needed air and Grayson didn’t seem to be complaining.

Damian bit back a reply of ‘it was obvious’ to consider his options. “It…something seemed off with the carpet…I found the fiber and DNA from looking at an area that was rubbed oddly.”

“Good eyes,” Grayson said. “And you didn’t kill him.” The last sentence sounded overly happy.

“I’m not allowed to,” Damian said stiffly. “Don’t act surprised.”

“It’s hard,” Grayson said, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry it’s hard not to act-”

“Not that,” Grayson said. “Not…not killing when you know how, when you know…that.” The taloned gloved drummed on the rooftop as he spoke. 

Damian frowned. “You mean…it’s hard not to kill once you have been trained to?”

Grayson smiled teasingly. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Damian confessed. “It is.”

Grayson nodded, and Damian felt that maybe, just maybe he could tell him something that his father would never truly listen to. “It’s just…when they’re dead, you know it. You know they aren’t coming back…it seems a cleaner way to end a confrontation. I mean, everyone always argues the Joker…but the rest of them too! And how many people might be alive if the Joker had died when he almost killed Robin?”

Grayson shrugged. “Hard to say.” He smiled sadly. “But think about what I told you.”

“What?”

Richard shook his head. “It’s…hard once you have.”

Damian frowned. “What do you mean? Yes, we talked about how we both have trouble not killing people sometimes. What does that have to do with leaving the Joker alive?”

“Bruce’s…afraid,” Richard said. “About it getting too easy for him.” 

“About…killing becoming easy?” Damian asked. 

“Easy way out,” Richard agreed. 

Damian frowned. “That is why…why he does not trust me?”

It fell into place. It wasn’t just that he had killed before; it was that his father didn’t trust him not to do it again. 

“He…doesn’t trust me.”

“You’re ten,” Dick offered consolingly. “Impulsive.” He grinned. “Like Jason…”

That was right; Dick had met Jason when he was fifteen and Jason ten. “Really?” He’d never been compared to his brothers before…no, he had, Dick had done it. He’d been insulted, but Dick apparently considered it a good thing. 

“Impulsive and brave,” Dick said, nodding. He grinned. “And adorable.”

“I am not adorable, Grayson,” Damian said sharply. “Don’t patronize me!”

Dick raised an eyebrow at that, before shrugging. “Anyway. Good job.” He ruffled Damian’s hair and left him alone. 

Damian stared after his brother, trying to understand just what had happened. 

He followed Nightwing into the darkness of Gotham.

.o.o.o.

“What were you doing out?” Jason asked hotly. “Dad’s rules apply even when he’s not here, you know.”

“I was getting air. Richard can vouch for me,” Damian said. 

Dick must have, since Jason didn’t bring it up anymore. Damian wore some of his brother’s ‘fun socks’ the next morning in thanks.

Dick’s grin was blinding. Damian almost swore never to do it again…almost.

.o.o.o.

“He should have been back by now, it’s been almost a week,” Jason said. “We haven’t gotten much from Babs either…”

“I could call Kori,” Dick offered. 

“Right, she’s in the League now,” Jason agreed. “Do it. Tim, check with the Titans. Damian, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but call your mom. See what she knows.”

“Perhaps we should wait until the other sources have been questioned?” Damian asked. “My mother…ah…”

“Oh,” Jason said, rubbing his arm. 

“It’s it’s really early there anyway. She’s probably still sleeping,” Tim said, trying to cover the awkwardness.

“Yes,” Damian agreed as Dick greeted Starfire on his phone. 

“Come on Gar, answer, it’s only seven in LA…” Tim muttered.

“Oh, commissioner! Um…no, I didn’t know Barbra was hospitalized for exhaustion, no one told us,” Jason said. “Is she okay? Recovering? Uh, no, not really…no idea…”

“Kori said she’s coming here,” Dick said. “Said this needs to be personal.” Damian swallowed.

That couldn’t be good.

“Finally,” Tim said. “Hey, Gar, it’s me…what are you sorry for…what do you mean I don’t—no, no, don’t call Superman, tell me what the hell is going on!”

“Damian, call Steph for me,” Jason said, tossing the kid his phone. He grabbed Dick’s discarded cell and dialed. “I’ll get Cass…” 

“Gar you will tell me or so help me god-”

“Brown, this is Damian. Do you know about Oracle’s current status? Yes? You thought we knew? We did not. Do you know why? Yes we heard the exhaustion bit.”

“Cass, come home, now,” Jason ordered. “Something’s wrong.” He hung up. “Dick, get Alfred. And there’s Starfire.”

Tim opened the window, still yelling at Beast Boy over the phone. Kori grabbed him in a tight hug before doing the same to Damian and Jason.

“Where is Dick?” she asked.

“Getting Alfred. Kori, what the hell is going on?” Jason demanded.

“It is…none of you knew?” she asked. “It must not have reached Gotham…”

“What?” Damian demanded as Dick returned with Alfred. 

“Darksied,” Starfire said.

“He’s back?” Jason asked sharply. “Who’s hurt? What happened?”

“He is gone,” Starfire said. “But…so is the Batman.”

“What?” Dick asked. Alfred sat down silently, white as a sheet.

Starfire hugged them both. “I am sorry you had to find out like this. We all thought you knew…we thought Oracle-”

“Was hospitalized for exhaustion late last night,” Jason said. 

“Oh dear,” Starfire said. “She would have been….she was working so hard…”

“But…what happened?” Tim asked, his phone having dropped to the floor. Damian could hear Beast Boy demanding Tim pick it back up.

“I can answer that.”

Superman was there. Damian supposed he had used super-speed and come in through the still-open window.

“Please…he can’t be!” Jason said. 

“I’m sorry,” Superman said.

“There was a massive crisis, many of the New Gods died and Darksied completed the anti-life equation,” Starfire said. “It was…dreadful.”

“Who killed him?” Tim choked out. “Who killed Bruce?”

“It was Darkseid,” Superman said. “He almost won, too…your father shot him right as the Flash made him vulnerable…and died in the process. Looked like the Omega beams.”

“No,” Tim said. “No, no, no.”

Damian stumbled back in shock, Dick and Starfire only just catching him. 

“Timmy-” Jason said, trying to get a hold of the younger brother who shrugged him off. 

“He can’t be dead!” Tim said. “Not…not after everyone!” he sounded like he was about to start hyperventilating.

“Tim, I know this is hard for you,” Superman said. “I lost Kon-El too. We…have to accept it and move on.”

“How the hell is Gotham supposed to move on?” Jason demanded. “Batman’s dead!”

“Jason…we’ll have to…see his will,” Tim said finally. “Oh god…”

“Got it. Little bird, come on,” Dick said, partially dragging Damian away, Starfire right behind. As they entered the cave, Dick shot Damian a quick a look. “Don’t care if you cry.”

“I’m not going to,” Damian said, his thick voice saying otherwise. “I’m…merely surprised that Father had to go out using a gun, is all. We all die.”

“Be brave, young one,” Starfire said, patting his shoulder. “Dick, is there anything-”

Dick shook his head before pausing and nodding. “Watch Dami for me.”

Dick retrieved Bruce Wayne’s will alone as an oppressive gloom settled over the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so up next is the Battle for the Cowl--or in this case, Battle to Make Jason put on the Damn Cowl Already.  
> And yes, this is Dick/Kori. I support Babs/Dick in canon, but this is a different Dick who fits better with Kori. You'll see more why later.


	4. Chapter 4: Escalation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle for Gotham has begun...

_One month later_

Damian was not used to…worrying. Especially about others, even more especially when those others were his brothers. But seeing how Dick and even the other two had come in the past few nights was starting to rub him the wrong way.

“Richard, this status quo is unacceptable,” Damian said. “The rogues are noticing.”

“They are,” Dick agreed. 

“Gotham….it needs a Batman,” Damian sighed. “I don’t like Jason but-”

“He won’t. Tried. So did Timmy,” Dick said, sounding a bit bitter. “Not happening.”

“Is this…about the will?” Damian asked. Their father had specifically asked for none of them to take up the cowl and its pain. Jason had taken that to heart.

“Right,” Dick said. “And about Jason.” The computer went off and Dick sighed, ruffling Damian’s hair in a gesture the boy had gotten used to by then. 

Damian sat back and reviewed what he knew about Jason Todd Wayne. First Robin, second adoptee, nearly killed, saved by Damian’s mother, later gave Robin to Drake and became Red Hood to mock the Joker, who’d nearly killed him at age thirteen. 

Mentally, Jason was probably the most sound of Damian’s ‘older brothers’—he wouldn’t kid himself, he may have given a damn about Dick but that didn’t mean he didn’t know the man had issues that would land a lesser man in Arkham—but Jason likely was also damaged in some way as no crusader of Gotham escaped it fully unscathed. 

Jason had a raw temper, but that probably didn’t affect wanting to be Batman or not. Drake was a better detective, there was that to consider…but Jason was a better fighter…

All in all, Damian could see no reason why Jason would have issues being Batman.

.o.o.o.

“Still out of town?” Gordon asked Nightwing. He didn’t expect a vocal response—Nightwing talked even less than Batgirl did—and was rewarded with a shrug and nod. 

“Well, if you can, tell him to hurry up,” Gordon said.

Nightwing shook his head. He then nodded at the signal.

“It’s Joker. He’s running around demanding to know where Batman is,” Gordon said. “We’ve got three dead already.”

Nightwing nodded and jumped off the roof.

.o.o.o.

“Good job with the Joker,” Tim told Dick.

Dick shrugged. For him the problem wasn’t subduing the clown or not getting poisoned, it was not ripping out the man’s throat for everything he’d done. 

It was not finishing the job he’d given himself eight years ago.

“Dick,” Tim asked, snapping him back to reality. “You okay?”

“Tired.” It wasn’t a lie. They were all tired. Batgirl and Spoiler were all-but living at Oracle’s, sleeping on whatever soft item presented itself first. Oracle was being monitored by Huntress so she didn’t collapse again. Tim clearly wasn’t sleeping, the only thing hiding the bags under his eyes was his mask. Jason was sleeping, but with nightmares that were starting to rival Dick’s. Even Damian, street-banned though he was, was hard at work by fielding extra calls for Oracle, mapping routes, and doing the more mundane detective work that didn’t require leaving the cave.

“Tell me about it,” Tim sighed. “You know they all know by now. It’s getting to be news. Batman’s almost never left for this long.”

“The Intergang thing,” Dick muttered.

“Yeah, and that was straight up hell,” Tim said. “And he could come back for that…not…not this.”

“Father can’t. Batman can.”

Tim looked over to where Damian was working on one of the older cars. “Look, kid, we know that, but-”

“Batman’s dead.” The Red Hood’s voice rang with a sharp finality as he entered the cave. “It’s disrespectful to act otherwise.”

“And yet damning Gotham is just dandy,” Damian muttered. 

“I heard that,” Jason snapped, taking off his helmet. Dick could see his right arm bleeding through the jacket and sighed. 

“Jason…I’m the last person to agree with Damian, but he has a point,” Tim said. “Gotham knows it doesn’t have a Batman.”

“Gotham isn’t a sentient thing, Timmy,” Jason said.

Dick had to disagree on that, what with all he’d seen, but he preferred to get to the point. “Bruce died. Not Batman.”

“Was I the only one listening to that will?” Jason demanded. “No, repeat, no taking up the cowl! Dad’s orders!”

“Father wasn’t infallible,” Damian said. “He made a mistake assuming Gotham would continue without the Bat.”

Dick tensed as Jason looked like he’d like nothing more than to go and hit Damian. The redhead relaxed, though, and looked at the costume cases. 

“No one puts on the cowl,” he said. 

“You mean you won’t,” Damian challenged. “We all know Drake’s too short and it’s…not Richard’s kind of job, so it’s that you won’t!”

“It’s not up to me,” Jason sighed and Dick would have hugged him and told him it was and why he should think about it if the other two weren’t there.

“Well, Gotham wants her Bat back,” Damian huffed, slamming the hood shut. “Good luck not giving it to her.” He stormed up the stairs.

“Is that little demon threatening me?” Jason demanded.

“Jay…maybe you should…consider it,” Tim said delicately. “Bruce didn’t want us to have any more pain, but if Gotham goes to hell, what then?”

“We’ll stop it. We did before and we can again,” Jason said resolutely. “Oh, Dick, thanks for smacking the Joker around.”

.o.o.o.

It was easy, on nights like this with rogues running rampant and criminals cashing in, for Dick to consider making a slip. 

Just a tiny slip. A claw too close to something vital, a strike too hard to the head or neck…

Zsasz would have been a great target, except he was locked up. Joker too, but in Belle Reve now; Gordon wanted him away from Gotham for the moment. Dent was tempting but…ill-advised. There was a good man in there too. Harley didn’t deserve it either. Maybe Shark, if he saw him.

But an average criminal, or even a horrid one like a rapist or murderer? He could do it easy. Send a little message. 

It would be wrong, but he could do it. Just take one, maybe two or three bits of scum out of the equation…

No. No slipping. Not with Bruce fresh in the ground. Not with Dami starting to look up at him like he was someone to look up at.

Dick sighed and dove into another long night.

.o.o.o.

“Arkham blew up,” Tim called over the coms.

“What!” Damian yelled.

“Why are you on this frequency?” Jason asked.

“Let him be and double that what,” Stephanie said. “Robin, are you sure?”

“I’m looking at the hole, Spoiler,” Tim said. “Right before the prisoners were to get transferred back from Blackgate, too…”

“Don’t tell me there’s a new player in this,” Jason growled.

“Lots of new ones,” Dick said. “And now a big one.”

“He has a point,” Cassandra said. “There are more criminals about than I have…ever seen here.”

“And this is Gotham, so you know that’s bad,” Damian concluded. “Drake, any news on the transported prisoners? I can try looking for them, or get Oracle-”

“Already looking,” Barbara said. “Zsasz was on that bus. So were Ivy, Croc, Jane Doe, Crane, Shark, Firefly…this looks bad.”

“All of those guys don’t vanish,” Damian said, typing so hard that people could hear the keys clacking over his com. “Maybe there’s a trail…”

“But they’d never go together…unless someone made them?” Tim asked.

“Joker’s still at Belle Reve,” Jason said. “Good call by the commissioner on that. So who else?”

“Batgirl, find Catwoman, see what she knows,” Oracle said. “Nightwing, Red Hood, we need reinforcements. I’m activating the Network.” 

.o.o.o.

Even with added heroes it was bad. Man-Bat was on their side; Black Canary had come with Red Arrow and Wildcat; Katana, Knight, and Squire were also pulling shifts where they could along Starfire with Batwoman. While the last had never actually been sanctioned, Jason and Dick weren’t exactly going to pull a hero off the streets with this much chaos.

Two-Face and Penguin were in a straight up gang war that was slowly but surely engulfing the southern end of the city. Harley was on a looting spree that had led to several injuries, mostly concussions from her hammer. The Mad Hatter was causing chaos in the metros. And there were wannabes coming out of the woodwork.

Finally one night it came to a head as Jason and Dick came down to the cave at Damian’s shout.

A costume, a batsuit, was missing. There was a note. “Gone hunting. Tim.”


	5. Chapter 5: Battle of Gotham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the "battle to make Jason put on the damn cowl" reaches its conclusion. Oh, and Gotham too.

“That idiot!” Jason yelled, grabbing his costume and changing then and there. “What was he thinking?”

“What we all were,” Damian muttered so Jason didn’t hear. Dick elbowed him sharply before starting to change as well. 

“Maybe…it’s just tonight,” Dick said, pulling on his gloves. “A sign. For Gotham.”

“Fuck that,” Jason said. “He knows better. And what’s that ‘hunting’ crap?”

“Probably for whoever blew up Arkham last night,” Damian said. “I’ll try and trace the suit.”

“I’ll go find Timmy. You do your job,” Dick told Jason, getting on his bike.

Jason nodded, “Can’t believe I’m saying this but…Damian, you’re un-banned for one night only. Take the car and try to help find Tim. You should be safe in the car—but Oracle will be monitoring you if you get any ideas.”

“Thank you for the no-trust reminder,” Damian grumbled, pulling on his old white and black suit and a domino mask. “Which car?”

“That one—fastest,” Jason said, waving at one of the Batmobiles. “Get going!” The Red Hood hopped on his own bike and took off into the night.

.o.o.o.

“I think I’ve zeroed in on Robin,” Damian told Oracle as he sped along abandoned roads on Gotham’s outskirts. “Going to his location now. Suggested routes?”

“Skip eleventh street, take thirteenth,” Barbara replied. 

“On it,” Damian said. “And after?”

“I’d suggest-”

The car was rammed as Damian crossed a small bridge. Damian could hear Barbara yelling, trying to know what was going on, as the car tumbled down into a small swamp. 

Damian clambered out the roof, noting the large dent in the side. “Oracle…Oracle, can you hear me? Anybody?”

“I think Batman just rolled over in his grave.”

“Anybody but you,” Damian grumbled at Poison Ivy, patting around his small utility belt for anything useful. He should have brought his sword…

“Oh, don’t forget Croc,” she said. “I heard he likes fresh meat.”

“Who sent you?” Damian asked, backing away from Killer Croc. “W-who organized this?” 

He hoped Barbara managed to point someone towards his location.

“Now what makes you say that?” Ivy purred as Croc licked his teeth.

“You two? Together? That’s not exactly normal, even for Gotham…” Damian said. He’d take Drake or Jason or Brown or… _anyone_ at this point…

“Sushi time!” Croc yelled, lunging.

Damian screamed—he wasn’t sure what but it was probably something really bad like ‘Mommy!’—as he was yanked straight up. 

“You okay?”

It was Nightwing on a glider. 

“For almost being sushi? I guess…” Damian said. “They took their time, though…”

“Good point.”

“You think something’s up?” Damian asked.

“Gotham. Always.”

A loud boom shook the air as something hit the glider.

“Nightwing! Wake up!” Damian yelled as they crashed into a building. “Oh…fuck that hurt…”

“Language, little bird,” Dick hissed, pushing himself up from the rubble. “Need to go—ah!”

He’d moved in time to stop a fatality, but the shot grazed his temple, drawing blood.

“Shit,” Damian said, backing up.

“Shark,” Dick hissed as the gunmen’s leader presented himself.

.o.o.o.

Dick really, really wanted to use his claws on that guy right now, but the odds were bad and there was Dami to consider. Three gunmen. Plus Shark. Pinned down. Cornered.

“With the Batman dead, Black Mask decided it’s open season on Gotham vigilantes,” the Great White Shark announced. 

Black Mask? He was dead! Catwoman killed him! Dick saw it—he’d been planning the same thing, for Stephanie who hadn’t been dead but he’d thought was! But he’d seen it!

Dick saw something in the window behind the opponents and slowly started to raise his hands in surrender, keeping himself between Damian and the gunmen.

Everything sped up. Two gunmen crashed to the floor as Kori plowed through the window and into them at top speed, starbolts flying. Dick lunged for the last with Damian, the kid disarming him as Dick swiped at Shark, throwing the man off-balance. 

Damian went to follow with a kick, only to have to duck as one of Kori’s gunmen sat up and shot at him. Kori put him through a wall and turned to help when-

A shot. Damian dropped, blood dripping from his chest.

Dick saw only red. He lunged for Shark, slashing hard as Kori tried to put pressure on Damian’s wound. 

Shark and slash and tear and rip and hate, hate, hate…

No killing, no, no. Dami was here, Kori was here, they didn’t need to see it…

Shark fell in a pool of blood. Not dead, not dying, just bloody and hurting.

“Starfire, take him to Blackgate,” Dick said. “I’ll take little bird home.”

“All right,” she said, trying Shark’s limbs together with some wire. “Be careful, Nightwing.”

“I know,” he said, holding his brother tightly and rushing out.

.o.o.o.

Jason tried to get a fix on who’d done it.

Gotham buildings were blazing. The death toll was low, but there was still a death toll. And it wasn’t the deaths anyway—it was the message.

He’d gone back to the cave to reassess with some of the Network members via Oracle.

He relaxed slightly as he heard Dick calling for Alfred, something about Damian...

“Great—Oracle, Dick’s home with the squirt, maybe he has a plan,” Jason sighed. He looked up. “Oh god.”

Dick set Damian down on a table, waving Alfred over as he carefully lowered the boy’s head. Jason barely saw any of that, though. 

Dick’s arms and chest were coated in blood. 

As Alfred went to work on Damian, Jason grabbed his older brother. “What happened?” He prayed Dick hadn’t slipped, not now; they didn’t need that on top of everything else. 

“Shark shot Damian,” Dick said quietly. He nodded stiffly to Alfred, who had pulled two slugs out of the child’s chest and was stitching him up. At least the kid was breathing.

Jason swore under his breath. People attacking him and Tim had always gotten Dick closest to slipping or flat out thrown him over the edge, and Dick seemed pretty close to their little demon-brother. “What happened?”

“Shark’s going to Blackgate. Kori has him”

“Blackgate,” Jason asked, getting a nod in confirmation.

“Blackgate’s hospital, then Blackgate,” Dick amended. 

Thank god. Dick had just beaten the guy bloody, not killed him. Small miracles. Jason took a deep breath. “Okay.”

Dick frowned. “I didn’t kill him.”

“You’ve been known to get pretty mad when one of us gets hurt,” Jason defended. “And that’s a lot of blood.”

“Some’s his,” Dick said, nodding at Damian. 

“Oh,” Jason said.

“You going to do it?”

“What?” Jason asked, looking back at Dick. 

Dick nodded at the costume cases—at the Batsuit. “Need him.”

“I’m not Bruce, Dick,” Jason said. 

“I’m not blind, Jason,” Dick replied.

“Funny,” Jason muttered. “Look, I…it’s not my place. I’m not…him. Maybe when Tim’s older he can but…not me.”

Dick just didn’t get it; Jason wasn’t the man for the job. He wasn’t a detective, he wasn’t a brilliant planner…he wasn’t someone like Bruce or Tim or even the shrimp, if he was feeling generous. 

“You’d be good. You’re a good protector,” Dick offered. “Tim?”

“No sign. Hope none of the goon squads got him.”

“Black Mask is calling shots.”

“He’s dead.”

“I know. Guess he woke up.”

Jason sighed. “Okay. I’ll rally the Network—this ends now. You find Timmy. Get him home.”

.o.o.o.

“Where’s Nightwing?”

“I thought you might ask,” Alfred said. “He’s still looking for Tim—whom I’m afraid we must assume ran into trouble by now.”

“I can help,” Damian said, pulling himself upright. “Gotham’s my city too.”

“Damian, you were just shot,” Alfred said sternly. “I will not have you traipsing around Gotham in its current state alone.”

“Listen I—alone?” Damian asked. 

“Let’s just say you’re the ‘purr-fect’ partner for what I have in mind, dear.”

“Catwoman?” Damian asked. “You’re sending me out with…Catwoman?” 

“You want to find Tim, I want to make sure Black Mask is back in the ground, and neither of us want Dick to have to do the second,” Selina said. “What’s your answer, little bird?”

“Where’s a mask?” Damian asked Alfred.

.o.o.o.

Dick bared his teeth in frustration. He’d seen Tim, almost gotten to him, and then gotten hit with knockout gas. 

Now he didn’t know where Tim or Black Mask was. “O, trace again. …O?”

Great, no contact. Dick shook his head. Fine, Black Mask wanted a hunt? He’d get a hunt…

.o.o.o.

“Penguin down,” Red Hood radioed in. “What’s our status?”

“Got Croc,” Huntress said. “Man-Bat found him.”

“Scarecrow’s out,” Batgirl and Spoiler said together, with Spoiler adding a quick, “Jinx!”

“Found Jane Doe, heh-heh, though she was playing a John Doe at the time,” Creeper said. “Wildcat took her in though.”

“Great—you guys hold the streets. O, where are Nightwing and Robin?”

“Um, Hood? I thought you just asked that—Alfred got directions from the cave for you,” Barbara said. “Oh no.”

“Catwoman was checking in at the cave—she’s going after Black Mask!” Red Hood said. “Find her!”

.o.o.o.

“We have to work fast. Keep your guard up, who knows who else Mask hired?” Catwoman said.

“Agreed,” Damian said. “What’s the plan if Nightwing finds him first?”

“Remind him that you need to find Robin, get him off the guy. I’ll handle the rest.”

“You’re going to kill him,” Damian surmised.

“Already did once. Double jeopardy?” she teased quietly. 

“You know it’s probably not the same person,” Damian said. 

“We’ll see, little bird. Lesser people have come back from the dead on us,” Selina replied. 

“…Don’t kill him if it’s a new one,” Damian said. “Just expose him. Show that people like him can’t hold Gotham…it’s what my father would want.”

“Don’t try to use my emotions like that kid…even if you’re right,” Selina conceded. “New guy, no offing. Get down!”

Damian’s eyes widened. Two men were dragging Tim, minus cape and cowl but with a domino mask still in place, towards a cross. “They wouldn’t.” 

“This is Gotham kid. That summation is always wrong,” Selina said. “Get ready.”

Damian shifted into a crouch. Right as they were about to nail in one of Tim’s arms, Selina’s whip cracked, yanking away one henchman. Damian leaped, crashing full-force into the other. 

“Get back here!” Selina yelled as her henchman ran. 

“He’s going to tell Black Mask! Stop him!” Damian said, wrestling his goon to the ground.

.o.o.o.

Black Mask wasn’t happy Dick had found him, but tough. You didn’t hurt and hunt his brothers without getting hunted back.

“Boss!”

Crack!

“Nightwing!”

He did not need Catwoman as a distraction right now. He caught Mask’s left arm and snapped it before hurtling the man across the room.

“Nightwing Robin and little bird need help down the tunnel. I’ll take him!” Catwoman said. “Nightwing, you know they wouldn’t want you to do this!”

No…they wouldn’t…they wouldn’t…

He kicked Black Mask away, snatching yet another gun from the man and tossing it to Catwoman. “Do what you have to.” He raced down the tunnel 

“Robin, Robin wake up!”

He hurried. Damian—wait a second, why the hell did she bring Damian?—was shaking Tim. A henchman was tied up near them, tied to a cross for some reason. The second he saw Nightwing the man panicked and raised a tube with a button.

Dick vaguely registered shooting the grappling hook on instinct and prayed as it snapped taunt.

“I’ve got it! And Robin’s coming to!”

Damian. Oh, Dami.

“Got you!” he called. “Hang tight!”

“Puns Nightwing? Really?” Damian demanded. 

“Nightwing, what the—shit, let me help,” Jason said. 

“Catwoman’s with Mask. Got this,” Dick said, beginning to pull his brothers up as Jason took the implied order and hurried down the other tunnel. 

“You’d better appreciate this,” Damian told Tim.

“Don’t make me think right now, you little demon,” Tim groaned.

.o.o.o.

Jason paused on his way down the tunnel. The cape and cowl Tim had taken…they were there…just…there.

He slid off his jacket.


	6. Chapter 6: Aftermath

 “What a photo op,” Tim teased quietly.

 “It’s Batman coming out of nowhere with Black Mask trussed up! That’s probably the photo of the year!” Stephanie said. “Okay, _we_ can tell it’s Red Hood but who cares! Gotham has a Bat again!”

 Cassandra rolled her eyes at her friend before allowing Alfred to keep patching her up.

 “I can’t believe he finally put it on,” Damian said, looking relieved.

 “Didn’t even have to make him,” Dick said proudly as he hugged Kori. Helena flashed a thumbs up from where Selina was checking her ribs.

 Damian frowned—he wondered just how Dick would have done that. Post signs? Force the cowl on him? Steal all the Red Hood costumes?

 “Shut your yaps!” Jason complained, pulling the cowl off. “It was luck, and it’s not going to save this city by itself! Hell, Black Mask turned out to be the freaking Arkham director, who wants to bet _that’s_ going to cause problems?” Everyone looked at him. “Well? Get patched up, get some sleep, and get outta here if you’re not a resident or sleeping with Dick!”

 Far from being offended, Kori and Dick both started laughing.

 “What? I know you’ll do it sometime this week,” Jason said dryly.

 “Not with me and Damian right here!” Tim complained, clamping his hands over his ears.

 “For once, I’m with Drake,” Damian huffed. He folded his arms, wincing. Holding Drake and the line as it snapped taunt had _hurt_.

 The others stared to clear out, Kori even leaving after a very long kiss and a short explanation that the League had her on duty that weekend, but she might be free Monday.

 Damian decided to get earplugs by then, just in case.

.o.o.o.

 “All home and safe,” Dick sighed as Tim and Damian headed upstairs. “What a night…”

Jason shot him a look “You three should be committed after all that.”

 “Too bad you love us.”

 “Yeah—for me.”

 “Even Dami?” Dick teased.

 “Hey, I’m glad he helped. That was a pretty cool stunt, too,” Jason said.

 “Glad I could hold them,” Dick said. “Kept swinging everywhere.” He gestured wildly with his free hand. He looked at Jason again. “It suits you.”

 Jason looked down at the cape and cowl, unbelieving. “Well, Timmy’s not old enough yet. We need a rule, Dick, no wearing the suit until twenty-one. Sound good?”

 Dick nodded, before looking across the cave where Damian was fiddling with mechanics on an older version of the Batmobile.

 “Ah, the non-stabbing hobby,” Jason chuckled, only to give Dick a weak shrug when the elder shot him a look. “Come on, I’ll lighten up on him, but you _will_ leave me my wisecracks, so help me god.”

 “I will,” Dick said. “Just…try not to be too mean.”

 “Dick, the kid threw Timmy off the dinosaur within a minute of meeting him. He insults and belittles all of us—okay, not you so much but you only just started hanging around him—all the time. He’s winning in meanness.”

 “He’s a kid Jason,” Dick said. “I’d think you’d get it.”

 Jason flinched.

 “So, Batman…better see Robin,” Dick said.

 “Right…” Jason said. “Right…how do I ask that?”

 Dick gave him an annoyed look and Jason grinned sheepishly. “Right, you don’t do delicate vocals…I’ll call Steph. She gets this stuff.”

.o.o.o.

 “So…what do you think, Tim?” Jason asked. “Want to be my Robin?”

 “Yeah,” Tim said. “Come on, we’ve worked together before. You’ve just got the cowl instead of your helmet. No real change.”

 Jason shook his head, “Big change. Really big change, Timmy. Not sure we can save this joint…I let it go too far, huh?”

 “We didn’t know this would happen,” Tim said. “Come on, let’s get things set up, get patrols coordinated with Dick and the Birds and Oracle…come on. We kicked Intergang out of Gotham, we can clean this up.”

 “Yeah…didn’t have Bruce for much of that, either,” Jason chuckled.

 “How were _we_ supposed to know Matches Malone would get arrested and then hospitalized?” Tim asked.

 “All praises to Alfred for that breakout though,” Jason added.

 “Yeah,” Tim laughed. “And Dick for that number on the Flash Rogues gang. And Stephanie for…well, being alive.”

 “Oh, that was priceless—your face, man, your face was just…priceless,” Jason agreed. “All right. So, tomorrow night…where do we start?”

 “I checked with Oracle—we need to dislodge Two-Face’s gang from near the pier,” Tim said. “It’s messing with the shipments and the city economy. Then find out more about Black Mask aka Mr. Arkham director and what he was trying.”

 “Got it. Sleep, eat, plot to take down Dent,” Jason said.

 “Sir yes sir,” Tim said teasingly.

 “Can you even say that when it was your idea?”

.o.o.o.

 Dick smiled as he slipped down the hall. They’d be fine. Tim wouldn’t let Jason’s self-esteem get the better of him and Jason would keep an eye on Tim’s depression. They could take care of each other pretty well.

 His last bird was another story.

 He knocked since apparently he could even sneak up on assassin-trained ten-year-olds and Damian reacted to being startled with violence and/or projectile weapons.

 “Who is it?”

 Dick smiled sadly at the sulky tone. “Just me.”

 He walked in as Damian sat up, pushing his covers back. “So, how’s my little bird?”

 Damian shot him an annoyed look—god he was Jason all over again, just deadlier—before shrugging. “I should be up in a few days, according to Pennyworth.”

 “Great,” Dick said. “So I’ve…been thinking.”

 “I’ve noticed you are capable of that,” Damian said.

 He was snarkier than Tim too. The kid had no idea how much like the other two he was. “You want to patrol with me?”

 “What?” Damian asked.

 “You…patrol with me,” Dick offered, hoping he’d phrased it correctly. “When you’re better.”

 “What?” Damian repeated, his eyes wide.

 Dick frowned. Was he asking this the wrong way? “If you don’t want to, I don’t…you know, mind or…”

 “I want to but…you’ll let me?” Damian asked, looking more hopeful than Dick had ever seen him. “I thought I was street-banned!”

 Dick shrugged. “I’ll un-ban you. Oldest.”

 “You’re really going to pull the ‘I’m the older brother’ bit?” Damian asked.

 “Works when I do,” Dick said. It did—Jason and Tim knew he did things for reasons, even if they didn’t understand all the time.

 Now he had a little confession of his own to make.

 “They…thought I killed Shark. When he shot you,” Dick said.

 “Oh. I um…heard you almost killed the Joker once, when he almost blew up Jason,” Damian said.

 “No almost— _did_. Bruce woke him up…but I killed him,” Dick said. He wasn’t totally sure how the resuscitation had worked, but it _had_ worked.

 “Really?” Damian asked.

 “Was an idiot….it was what he wanted. To destroy all of us….Jason, me, Babs…all of us,” Dick said.

 “Oh,” Damian said.

 Dick folded his hands in his lap. This was the hard part. “Remember when you asked about killing Joker?”

 “Yes,” Damian admitted hesitantly.

 “I do wonder. Every night I wonder…who’d be alive if he stayed dead, if I’d managed to keep him dead…” Dick said. “And I could do it any time, get closer and _kill_ him.”

 “But you don’t,” Damian said, cocking his head.

 “Right. I don’t know if this…” Dick rubbed his temples in frustration, looking for the right words. “Will make sense to you, but you will have those chances too. I’ll trust you…to not ever take them.”

 “What?” Damian asked.

 “I will trust you not to kill people if I turn my back,” Dick said, gripping his shoulders. “I will trust you because you have to want to do it not for me, but for yourself. Right now it might seem like nothing but believe me…it catches up to you.”

 He shuddered, feeling very, very tired. The people he’d been trained to hunt, the few slip ups…the looks from Bruce and Jason and Tim… “It really does.”

 Damian was staring at him, not protesting or anything. Looking at those big navy eyes made Dick want to cry—how could someone be a fully trained assassin and be so…so blind, so naïve?

 Damian nodded slowly, “I think I’m starting to get it.”

 “That’s my little bird.”

 “I get a better codename than ‘little bird’ or no deal.”

 “Fine. Be like that.”

 “Grayson, emotional appeals don’t work on me.”

 “Brat,” he said affectionately, kissing the boy’s hair. “Love you.”

 “…You too. Goodnight, Dick.”

 “Night, Dami.”


	7. Interlude 1: Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quietverse Dick's backstory, from the guy himself

You had always liked heroes. Robin Hood was a favorite, though the growing number of superheroes in real life also interested you a lot.

 You guess your backstory could be seen as a superhero origin, if you looked past the sad bits. Or if you really liked Bruce or Kori’s or maybe Clark’s stories, looked right at at the sad bits too.

 You don’t like how little you can recall of…before. Talons were nothingness, were empty. Empty of rational thought, of inhibitions…you couldn’t be that with memories. Memories shaped you, made you who you were.

 You remembered your parents, remembered that English was your second language, the first was Romani and after a year under the Owls you’d pretty much reverted to that by default, and not a very grammatically correct version either. You remembered a circus tent and remembered…falling. Could see it in your head when you paused.

 You’d been trained to and had killed. Random people, mostly homeless who wouldn’t be traced, were used. Sometimes you saw them when you paused, instead of the fall.

 You saw the blood and corpses, and felt the nothing and _hated_ it now that you could see it from the present.

 Batman, Bruce, had saved you from that. Batman had been smart enough and Bruce kind enough to know you couldn’t go to an orphanage. He’d tried to get you help.

 You didn’t like the psychiatrists. Too many questions, and later too many thoughts of Arkham. It took years for the constantly repeated phrases—“selective mutism” “insomniac” “abandonment issues” and more—to mean anything and for you to know why they were always said about you.

 Bruce and Alfred had adjusted pretty well to you, all things considered. Bruce was slowly training you out of bad—lethal—habits and Alfred was nice and both were getting you back to English and _actual_ Romani language instead of what you’d used.

 You never had to go to the parties if you didn’t want to. They were too loud. People looked at you for how you talked—or more often, because you wouldn’t.

 A lot of people thought you were stupid. You guess in some ways you were, but then everyone was stupid in some ways, even Bruce and Lex Luthor and Timmy. You were homeschooled by Alfred since they all knew public school would kill you.

 You’d been happy to get a classmate when Jason had shown up—except you two really weren’t really together much. Alfred kept trying to get you in the same room as Jason but you’d been thirteen and skittish.

 Then Bruce had a party and Jason had hidden in his room. Bruce had been fine with it—that had been your first reaction to parties too even if you sometimes made an effort now and then to go—and you had gone to inspect your new “brother”.

 You’d liked Jason. The kid was raw, readable. You had decided you two were brothers and you’d protect Jason and love him. Jason had agreed.

 A few months later Jason was street-ready. You made his costume and called him Robin after some fleeting happy memories of your own. Jason was…so _Jason_ that it made you want to go out there too. Made you feel like maybe you could, should. So you made up Nightwing and did.

 Alfred grounded you for not telling anyone first. Bruce had been too beside himself to think of what to do with you at the time.

 Bruce had been the one with the idea to ship you two to the Titans at once. There were people there strong enough to keep you in check in case of…accidents and it was somewhere Jason and you could make friends.

 Day one, Jason hit on Donna. Day two you got kissed by Kori so she could learn Romani. Day three you both beat up Dr. Light with the team. It was kind of nice.

 You got to meet other heroes, too. You liked Superman, liked Clark Kent. The man was too nice not to like.

 Jason’s mom died. He never said anything about it, so you thought he was okay. Before Tim came along and made the family talk about things, that was how you all thought about that stuff—so-and-so’s not talking, so they must be okay.

 But Jason hadn’t been okay. Jason had been breaking and it made you sad when you realized you hadn’t noticed—you were supposed to be the protector, the big brother.

 Jason found his real mom two years later and went to her. You had actually, genuinely screamed at Bruce to _call Clark damn it_ so they could find him faster. Bruce, seeing what this was doing to you, complied.

 You’d still been too late. Batman had just stared at the rubble as the Joker laughed and laughed but then you had lost it and lunged.

 You remembered it. Barbara was still freshly shot, and now Jason was dead. You remembered choking and hitting and slashing and hate and Superman grabbing you by the arm and snapping it like a twig to make you _calm the hell down, Nightwing_ and Batman waking the Joker back up, no, no, he was dead, why’d he do that, he could have just been dead! Let him stay dead, Bruce!

 Then Jason was okay and you were horrified. You couldn’t talk to Jason for a while. Most of your slips had lasted seconds—you’d beaten the Joker for a minute solid. You’d probably laughed a little yourself. You didn’t want to have to tell Jason his big brother was a murderer.

 Then Jason brought Timmy. Timmy somehow made everyone talk a lot, even when you didn’t really feel  like it. But you all worked things out, and Jason made Timmy Robin and decided he was Red Hood and came bounding home one night going _Dick, Dick, I told the Joker where to stick it!_

 You’d been happy. You couldn’t call Timmy a brother though, Timmy’s dad had died and it was sensitive. You hung around Cassandra instead, helping Bruce with her training.

 Timmy’s mom died and his stepdad found out about him being Robin. You didn’t know Jack Drake, you’d had no reason to know Jack Drake, but Jason was apparently scared enough of the man to jump out a fourth story window in his civvies. So you had asked if Timmy needed them.

 Timmy didn’t come by for a long while. Spoiler got him to by playing Robin. You made Bruce let her in the fold for that. You’d needed to know Timmy was okay and she made it happen.

 You remembered when Black Mask almost killed Spoiler. You remembered when any member of your family was threatened, no matter their role. You remembered going to finish the guy so Steph could come home and stop playing dead when Catwoman did it for you.

 Steph still didn’t come home for over a year. When she did, you’d been very huggy. In your defense it was after a stressful gang war.

 Things kept changing. Timmy lost more people. Jason became taller than you. You and Kori had started seeing each other more.

 You all met Damian.

 You didn’t see too many issues with the kid, outside of the whole “tried to kill Timmy when he first met him” thing. You knew in many ways you’d been worse and better at once. Damian could think about killing even if he didn’t understand why it was bad. You kept an eye on him when he was around for whatever reason he was around for, but the kid really just wanted Bruce’s approval.

 Damian was really bad one night when he tried to kill a D-list villain in a very _weird_ attempt to get Bruce’s approval. You had stopped him and silently hauled him back to the cave.

 You didn’t talk to Dami at all until Talia dropped him on Bruce permanently. Even then, you’d only really started talking shortly before Bruce’s…before that.

 But you would help him. Dami learned fast, he was almost as brilliant as Tim and easily as eager as Jason. You would help him learn. Help your little Blackbird learn since Bruce couldn’t.

 You wanted Gotham to be okay, it mattered to Bruce and Jason and Timmy and Dami. But Gotham didn’t matter to you like they did. You’d drag all three out if you had to, if there was no other option. Bruce had shipped you, Jason, and Timmy out for almost all of No Man’s Land. You would do the same if you had to.

 But first all of you would go for the last save. Try and fix what was broken. That’s what the people in this big old house had always done, tried to fix Gotham.

 **Richard** aww Dami why does he have to call you that **when are you taking me out? I thought I was allowed on the streets?** Silly Dami.

 You told him to wait until he was better, until Alfred gave him 100 percent.

 **Fine. But you don’t get to see my project until then**.

 You almost pouted. Your little bird was very willful, very _Damian_ about these things. And you were very curious about what was so special about what he was working on in the garage…

 “Sure Dami. Can wait a few nights.”


	8. Chapter 7: New Kid on the Block

 Despite Damian’s protests that he was “fine” Dick didn’t take him out for a week. To avoid going stir-crazy, Damian indulged himself in a pet project. Out of pettiness, Dick didn’t get to see it until Damian was allowed to go out.

 “Dami!”

 “You want me, come find me!” he yelled, tightening the bolts. That should do it.

 Dick strolled in, grinning. “Costume.”

 Damian caught the tossed outfit. His first reaction was pleasure that it had a hood attached. The next was to note that like Nightwing’s, it was darker in color than Red Hood or Robin’s costume, or even Damian’s old black and white suit.

 He then realized something. “This is because of the blackbird joke Pennyworth made?”

 “Blackbird sounds good,” Dick said simply.

 Damian shrugged. He could do worse—at the moment the only common title open was Red Hood and no, just no. “All right, I’m Blackbird then.”

 “Going to tell me what it is?” Dick asked, nodding at the vehicle he was working on.

 “You’ll see tomorrow night,” Damian said with a small grin.

.o.o.o.

 “Wow, your first night out and Dick’s late,” Jason scolded quietly. “You okay?”

 “This was expected. He and Starfire set a dinner-date,” Damian said. “You two?”

 “Looking at Belle Reve. Guess who broke out?” Jason growled, pulling on his new costume. It was essentially a batsuit with all the yellow bits replaced with red and a thin red outline around the bat. Let it never be said Jason Todd forgot his favorite color.

 “Yeah, we’re going to be having so much fun,” Tim sighed from the computer. “Well, ‘Blackbird’, here’s to a good first night.”

 “…Thank you,” Damian said stiffly. “Good luck finding the Joker.”

 “Finding the Joker and good luck so don’t go together, but thanks. See you, kid!” Jason said.

 Damian watched them leave before running over and making minute adjustments to his car before Dick got home.

 “Little bird’s been busy.”

 Damian almost banged his head on the hood. “Don’t do that! And it’s Blackbird now, so stop calling me ‘little bird’ already!”

 “You wish,” Dick said, grinning widely.

 “…How was dinner with Starfire?” Damian asked, finishing what he was doing.

“Good. So, this?” Dick nodded at the vehicle.

 Damian smiled, “Watch this!” He opened the driver’s side and turned it on.

 “Dami…you made a flying car,” Dick observed, walking around the vehicle with awe clearly painted on his face.

 “Yes. As we are Night _wing_ and Black _bird_ , I felt a flying car made sense,” Damian replied. “And there’s also the undeniable advantage it gives us.”

 “Bruce could never do it,” Dick said, getting in the driver’s seat.

 “I found his old plans and made improvements,” Damian replied. “It wasn’t too hard.”

 He felt a small rush of pride when Dick ruffled his hair before revving the engine. Dick turned on the radio. “Nightwing and Blackbird, calling in.”

 “What’s up?” Jason asked.

 “We have a flying car. Winning,” Dick said, before flicking the communicator off.

 “Oh god, you’ve discovered memes,” Damian sighed.

 “Little bird should remember big bird has blackmail.”

 “Do you want  me to tell you how to drive this thing or not?”

 “Drive,” Dick decided.

.o.o.o.

 “Freak show alert,” Damian muttered as they descended into the assaulted police outpost.

 Dick agreed. The group was right to call themselves the Circus of the Strange…hell, they had conjoined Siamese triplets in the fight! “Blackbird, find the Captain.”

 They dove in. Dick had been practicing with Damian, getting to know his little brother’s style, and it helped immensely. Damian packed a lot of power for his size, so if Dick treated it like he had Tim or even Jason back  in the day as a partner, there would have been collisions at the very least, friendly-fire injuries at worst.

 Damian wasn’t using projectiles, instead sticking to the katana Dick had let him bring in order to keep his opponents off-balance enough to incapacitate. Dick didn’t know what it was about swords, but a lot of people in Gotham freaked out when someone had one, giving Dami an advantage.

 He guessed he should blame Azeral.

 He flipped a mime into a wall and slammed into a heavyset woman in a tutu. This was officially weirder than what he’d seen the time he’d been dosed with light Joker toxin. Dick was impressed as Damian kicked the triplets so they landed at the feet of two up-and-cuff-ready cops, who attached them to a heater.

 Dick swiped the woman’s shoulders lightly with his claws, enough to get the instinctive stumble-back from the pain that allowed him to kick her hard enough to knock her down. He quickly turned and smacked the ‘strongman’ in the face with an Escrima stick. “Nice try.”

 The work was soon finished and Dick could only frown as one of the triplets started yelling something about a pig. He’d let Jason and Tim know. Damian was quietly arguing with the Captain that no, his injuries did not need looking at.

 Dick had to agree. He hated his brothers getting hurt, but Damian was only bruised at best. Definitely a record for ‘least first-mission injuries’ unless they counted saving Tim a week ago.

.o.o.o.

 “Still love the car,” Dick snickered as they flew around Gotham.

 “Glad it amuses you,” Damian drawled. “I wonder who that pig he was warning us about was…”

 “Warning?”

 “You didn’t notice it was a warning?” Damian asked, frowning at his big brother.

 Dick shrugged. “Lot of yelling sounds the same.”

 “Point,” Damian admitted. “Was that…an acceptable performance?”

 “You did a good job,” Dick confirmed.

 “Oracle sent me a text,” Damian said. O…kay then.”

 “Something wrong?”

 “…Apparently Cassandra made Brown Batgirl and left the country for some reason.”

 “Cass should know better,” Dick huffed. “No goodbye?”

 “Tell me about it. And _Brown_ , really?”

 “No, the goodbye,” Dick said.

 Damian shrugged. Apparently Dick had more faith in Stephanie than he. “Fine. Head home and find out more about the pig?”

 “Sure.” Dick drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Do we have any info other than ‘the pig?’”

 “No we do not,” Damian said. “This is going to be a long search.”


	9. Chapter 8: Flamingo

 “Does that really say ‘Eater of Faces’ or am I hallucinating, Tim?” Jason asked.

 “Eater of Faces?” Damian echoed from where he was working on the Wingmobile, as Tim had dubbed it. “What, a new Arkhamite?”

 “No, mercenary, hired killer,” Tim said, gesturing to the file he’d pulled up on the main monitor. “And reports show he just came to Gotham.”

 “Great. We still don’t even know who the pig is!” Damian complained.

 “I told you last night, I’m ninety-five percent sure it’s this doctor who was arrested on drug charges and went AWOL,” Tim said. “Several things that have shown up point us in that direction and I’m going to look into it tonight.”

 “Meanwhile I’ll be looking for Mr. Happy,” Jason said. “I can’t believe he’s laid low this long…”

 “Not the only one,” Dick called from where he was helping Alfred fix some more cowls to fit Jason better.

 “He’s done it before,” Tim said. “Like when Intergang moved in—remember that?”

 “Yeah, He slipped away pretty early…and Scarecrow got crucified, right?” Damian asked. “I was still with my mother, so I’m not sure.”

 “You got it, kid,” Jason said. “I know Harley’s been hanging around Selina lately, maybe I can get something out of her…”

 “Be careful, Ivy will be there too,” Tim said.

 “What?” Jason asked.

 “Harley posted this on Facebook. They’re staying together,” Tim said, bringing up the page. “See?”

 “Tt. Harley Quinn and social media. Now _that’s_ scary,” Damian snickered.

 “And Blackbird wins the conversation!” Stephanie announced as she came into the cave. “Oh, come on Tim, stop _glaring_ at me about-”

 “I just don’t think you should be-”

 “If you two fight again I swear to god I will hand you over to Dick and then Damian and I will be the only ones patrolling and we might kill each other while Dick lectures you two into repentance,” Jason said sharply.

 Damian glanced between Tim and Stephanie. “I don’t know, Jason, aren’t people supposed to get things like that off their chests?”

 “Bad Dami,” Dick scolded. Alfred merely shook his head in exasperation.

 “So bored you want a show, huh?” Jason asked. “Well, how about you review some of the security videos of Flamingo Gordon sent to ease your boredom, you little demon?”

 “I’m so sorry they’re too scary for you,” Damian said, taking the disks and putting them into a laptop.

 “Now who fixes the car?” Dick huffed, setting down a finished cowl and heading over to Damian, just in time to grab the laptop as the boy knocked it off the table in a rush to get to a trash can and vomit. “Dami!”

 “The name and reputation are definitely true,” Damian muttered, wiping his mouth.

 Dick frowned and watched the next video. “I’ll handle him.”

 “Yeah, _no_ ,” Jason said. “Nobody’s going solo anywhere with Gotham like it is. Either come up with backup or you’re not doing it, Dick.”

 Jason and Dick got into what was essentially a glaring contest as Damian headed over to Stephanie, “So, what have you been doing?”

 “Drug rings, mostly,” she said. “Scarecrow too.”

 “I see. As I am new to the family dynamic, is there any reason why Jason assumed—admittedly correctly, it seems—that Richard wished to go alone?”

 “Dick doesn’t like his younger siblings dealing with the real nut jobs if he can help it,” Stephanie said. “I heard if Jason hadn’t been with Bruce for the first few times after the, uh, incident, Dick would never have ever let him fight the Joker again. Tim’s only gotten to do it if he’s with Bruce, Dick, or Jason. And apparently this guy has freaked Dick out to the level of ‘no little brother allowed to fight’ him.”

“…And this is over a man called the _Flamingo_ ,” Damian muttered. “How long have they been glaring?”

 “Five minutes,” Tim said. “And they learned from the best so this could take a while…”

 “How about we three go after the drug-addled pig and they take the off-limits-to-us mercenary then? Richard can hardly object to _Batman_ going along and the Joker’s probably not going to show any time soon,” Damian asked. “I can say I’m going with you so you two don’t fight and we still get field time.”

 “Good god, now I’m agree with you over something. The world has gone crazy,” Tim said dryly as he headed over to explain their new plan.

.o.o.o.

 “You know, with the kind of town Gotham is, you’d think they’d raze any carnival the second it became abandoned,” Batgirl said as the trio carefully made their way towards the big top.

 “I’ll get Wayne Industries to suggest a new ordinance,” Robin said. “Blackbird, your trained assassin senses getting anything?”

 “Definite smell of drugs…not cocaine, that’s more stale-ish,” Blackbird said. “Plus most of the stuff you said the pig uses doesn’t have a scent. I’m also smelling some chloroform…”

 “Let’s be careful. Air filters at the first hint of problems,” Robin said.

 The wind picked up, causing many of the old structures to creak and moan.

 “Going to have trouble hearing an ambush at this rate,” Batgirl swore.

 “Maybe we’ll be lucky and get to do the ambushing,” Blackbird suggested.

 “Kid, _Gotham_ ,” Batgirl said.

 “Right. No one good gets lucky,” Robin agreed.

 Blackbird jerked before tackling the other two into an abandoned booth right before some odd, doll-like people came into view.

 “Good call,” Batgirl said, shifting into a crouch. “Maybe we will get that ambush…”

 “On three,” Robin said. “Blackbird and I grab, Batgirl restrains. Get your zip-ties ready.”

.o.o.o.

 “So he stowed away?” Batman asked as Nightwing gingerly picked through the plane with a few cops.

 “Correct,” Commissioner Gordon said. “I wouldn’t recommend eating before looking at the tapes, though.”

 “Yeah. Nightwing and Blackbird noticed,” Batman said.

 “Oh no, this one got worse,” Gordon said tightly. “The girl was alive.”

 “When he ate her…my god,” Batman said.

 “You sure you got this, son?” Gordon asked quietly.

 Batman paused. Gordon didn’t know-know, but he seemed to have a sense about these things, and Jason may have been the tallest sibling but he still wasn’t quite Bruce-level in tallness… “Commissioner, this man will be brought in.”

 Shit. Nightwing noticed and was giving him a look. He did not need Dick in big-brother mode right now. “Now, do we have any idea where he’s heading or who hired him?”

 “Nothing,” Gordon said. “Whatever he’s in Gotham for, we’ll be lucky to find it before he gets to it.”

 “Right,” Batman agreed. “Nightwing, get over here.”

 Nightwing kept his pace even, though Batman would see the man wanted to sprint out of the crime scene and only wasn’t because he might mess up parts of the crime scene running. “Batman?”

 Still felt weird having his big brother call him that. “I want you to track down Flamingo. Don’t engage him unless there’s a crime in progress, just _find_ him. Radio in when you do. Gordon currently has more information than us and can probably work out the best sort of capture plan.”

 Nightwing nodded and headed out to his bike.

 “Should warn you, Batman,” Gordon said. “No one’s ever taken in Flamingo without fatalities.”

 “Flamingo’s never dealt with me,” Batman said sternly. “Now, let’s see what your men have found.”

.o.o.o.

 “I’m going to be sick,” Robin said as Batgirl hurriedly gagged both their captives.

 “Be my guest. I’ve already had my turn,” Blackbird said. “Those masks…they look attached…”

 “It’s like it’s somehow welded to the face,” Batgirl breathed. “Oh god…”

 Robin swallowed. “Do you want us to help you?”

 Both of the doll-people just stared at him.

 “Blackbird, get your sword out. We need to get one talking,” Robin said.

 “And you want me to threaten them?” Blackbird asked.

 “No. I want you to slice up whoever comes if one of them starts screaming. No fatalities,” Robin said sternly.

 “Tendons it is,” Blackbird said, shifting so his back was to the other two heroes.

 “All right, Batgirl,” Robin said tightly. “Old routine. Ungag that one.”

 “Got it,” Batgirl said, removing the gag and keeping her hand over the person’s mouth. “Hi sweetie. We just need to know what’s going on here, okay?”

 She removed her hand. The person said nothing.

 “What does Pyg want?” Batgirl tried. “Why are you here?”

 “He wants everyone to be perfect,” the doll-person said dreamily. “The doctor makes us all perfect.”

 “Why has Pyg come to Gotham?” Robin demanded harshly.

 “To set it free.”

 “That’s helpful,” Blackbird huffed, still keeping a lookout.

 “Free from what?” Batgirl asked gently. “What does he want?”

 “Free from thought. From reason,” the person said dreamily. “Free from imperfection.”

 “That’s not good,” Robin said. “All right, what’s he planning?”

 The doll-person smiled blithely, “The doctor will see you now.”

 “He’s not a doctor,” Robin said, grabbing the doll by the shirt. “What do you-”

 “Down!” Blackbird snapped, lunging as another doll crashed into the booth. He cut the tendons in the back of its knees and landed in a defensive position as more showed up. “Someone call Oracle!”

 “Already doing it,” Robin said as he and Batgirl pulled out their bo staffs. “Investigation over. We’re out of here.”

.o.o.o.

 “O to all points!”

 “Reading you, O,” Batman said. “What is it?”

 “Robin, Batgirl, and Blackbird ran into trouble. Looks like Pyg has a lot more behind him than we thought,” Oracle said.

 “Where are they?” Huntress’ voice crackled over the com. “I’m already riding.”

 “Good. Go to the park outside the East Side limits if you can,” Oracle said. “Batman?”

 “Going. O, I’ll give the commissioner one of your message accounts,” Batman said. “He’ll send you all the current Flamingo plans. Give them to Nightwing when he checks in.”

 “And if he asks where you all are?”

 Batman paused, “Well, tell him. And tell him not to just rush in.”

.o.o.o.

 “Tied to chairs. Original,” Blackbird said as he came to.

 “Nice of you to join us,” Batgirl said.

 “Yeah, if we have to suffer watching this weirdo, so do you,” Robin added.

 “He is mangling some of the greatest poems and songs of all time,” Batgirl muttered.

 “Oh, it’s not the freakish dancing that’s putting you off?” Blackbird wondered.

 “I’ll admit, that is definitely creepy,” Robin admitted. “And, you know, nothing a kid like you should ever be seeing.”

 “It is all kinds of wrong,” Blackbird agreed. “And, there we go.” The ropes fell of their chairs.

 “Whatever else you have to say about assassins, they give great escape artist training,” Batgirl said.

 “Has he even noticed?” Robin wondered, grabbing his utility belt.

 “Nope,” Blackbird said, before lunging sword-first.

.o.o.o.

 “Nightwing!”

 Nightwing paused and turned to see Batman staring at him in shock. “What?”

 “…Oh shit,” his brother swore. “Tell me you didn’t track that mercenary here.”

 “You said to. What about you?” Nightwing asked.

 “Double shit, come on,” Batman said.

 “Why?” Nightwing asked, the annoyance that always came at not being told things creeping into his tone.

 “Guess where a certain trio tracked a pig?” Batman asked.

 Nightwing took off running, Batman trailing behind him.

.o.o.o.

 Blackbird stifled a yelp as several of the doll things threw him through a section of the stands. He was going to have bruises on his bruises at this rate. “If we take out Pyg, then these things won’t know what to do!”

 “Kind of figured—Batgirl, look out!” Robin yelled.

 Batgirl heard the noise and moved right before a huge motorcycle roared into the tent, a man in a pink suit and mask atop it.

 “Oh no,” Robin said in horrified recognition.

 “I’ll take him,” Blackbird said.

 “Like hell you will, we need to retreat, now,” Robin said.

 “I meant I’d take him so one of you could get out and get help,” Blackbird hissed and Flamingo grinned and pulled out a huge gun. “Oh… _shit_.”

 A batarang slammed into Flamingo’s face—apparently Batgirl had gotten enough space between herself and the dolls again.

 “If he’s working for Pyg, he won’t shoot the dolls,” Robin decided, grabbing Blackbird and dragging him towards the fray.

 “How do we know he’s working for Pyg?” Blackbird demanded.

 “Well, why else would he be here?” Batgirl asked. “Get down!”

 The trio managed to duck behind park of the ring as bullets cracks over either heads, Flamingo’s chuckling carrying louder than then gun’s blasts.

 “I don’t see Pyg,” Robin said. “Okay, here’s the plan. Batgirl, give Blackbird two batarangs. Blackbird, aim for his eyes. You have one chance. Don’t get shot. Batgirl, you’re going to grab the gun, and I’m going to grab the freak. Got it?”

 “Right,” Batgirl said, passing the projectiles.

 “Three…two…now!” Blackbird yelled, leaping up in a very fast arc and hitting Flamingo in the face. Batgirl rushed forward and managed to grapple the gun away but Flamingo could still see—his mask had eye protection and he’d only gotten some cuts on his face. He cracked robin across the face, sending him flying.

 “No!” Batgirl yelled, quickly throwing the gun away before Flamingo could take it back. Right as the mercenary was about to jump her and Blackbird, Nightwing crashed into him.

 “Nightwing!” Blackbird said, relieved.

 “ _Get out_ ,” Nightwing said sternly, wrestling with Flamingo.

 “Help me with Robin,” Batgirl said, trying to haul the dizzy teen to his feet. Blackbird joined her as Batman rushed in.

 “What the hell is going on?” Batman demanded.

 “Pyg and Flamingo are working together,” Blackbird relayed. “HEY!” He raced off, seeing Pyg trying to get out with two dolls that held a struggling girl.

 “Blackbird, stay put!” Batman ordered, going after him. Batgirl huffed and managed to get Robin over a shoulder and started to carry him out.

 Blackbird managed to grab the girl while Batman dealt with with Pyg and the dolls. They started to run towards Batgirl and the exit.

 A pop cut the air, followed by Blackbird dropping like a rock.

 The girl screamed. Batgirl choked.

 Nightwing twisted Flamingo’s pistol-holding wrist a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees in an instant.

 Blackbird groaned, “Shit…spine…”

 “What do I do what do I do?” the girl asked frantically.

 Nightwing began bashing flamingo’s head against the hard ground.

 Blackbird sighed, “Com. First pouch on the left. Nine one one  would be nice.”

 The girl was about to get it when Gotham PD rushed into the tent. Blackbird huffed. “Tt. Never mind.”

.o.o.o.

 “So…first ever zero-fatality Flamingo capture,” Jason said.

 Dick gave him an exasperated look.

 “And Pyg’s in custody, the doll folks are at the hospital with the girl Damian saved, and you and Damian are heading to Talia’s place to get his back fixed,” Jason said.

 “He has a point,” Damian pointed out from the cave stretcher he was on.

 Dick gave him a dirty look.

 “Yeah, your currently-paralyzed little brother is saying hey, it could have been worse,” Damian said flatly. “You can ground me when I’m better or something.”

 “Good luck with Talia,” Jason said, clapping Dick on the shoulder as a helicopter came on the radar near the agreed site.

 Dick nodded. “Come on, Dami.”

.o.o.o.

 “All right, you want the good news, the bad news, or the _oh my_ _god_ news?”

 “In order,” Jason told Tim.

 “Good—the girl we rescued, Sasha, seems like the mask can be removed from her face. Bad, there’s serious indications that Pyg and Flamingo may have had a boss since Pyg didn’t have the assets to either run his own operation or hire Flamingo,” Tim said. “As for the oh my god…all of the other doll people where they tried to fix them…the welded masks melted their heads.”

 “…You know, when we worked with Dad we did not get this much vomit-worthy stuff at once,” Jason decided. “Get searching on who could have been paying them, Timmy. I’ll go back to the great clown hunt.”

 “Who sleeps anymore?” Tim quipped, starting up the supercomputer. As Jason left the cave he frowned and pulled up a different file, and began to continue a long search.


	10. Chapter 9: Dead Man's Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also known as B&R issues 7-9 or The Chapter Where Dick Gets Scary

Talia frowned as Grayson stared at her son’s ongoing surgery. “I assure you, he will be returned, and besides, don’t you have other business?”

 Grayson shot her a small smile, “I’m not Batman.”

 Talia nodded. He didn’t _have_ another reason to leave—Nightwing may have become a more frequent member of Gotham’s nights, but he had far more ‘flexible’ hours. “Of course. Still, if you tire-”

 “I won’t.”

 This was going to be harder than she thought. She’d have to make sure the spine implants were as unnoticeable as possible.

 “So, I hear Todd-” she smirked as Grayson bristled at the use of his brother’s former surname “-is doing an adequate job.”

 Grayson raised an eyebrow. Either he was prompting her to continue or questioning her use of the word “adequate,” and she didn’t really care which it was.

 “My father said Robin has been pursuing some threads that indicate that he thinks Bruce is alive,” Talia added instead.

 Grayson nodded, apparently aware of that, but offered no details if he knew any.

 “Very well. To my knowledge, Damian will need a week or so in a wheelchair after this, and to take it easy for about another week.”

 “Still pretty fast,” Grayson said simply. “Thanks.”

.o.o.o.

 “Where’d they go?” Damian asked as Alfred explained that he and Dick were returning to a mostly-empty manor.

 “England. Knight and Squire seem to have found something on the Black Glove,” Alfred said.

 “Who?” Damian asked.

 “Gone three days, miss everything,” Dick huffed.

 “Masters Jason and Timothy think the Black Glove was behind Pyg and Flamingo somehow,” Alfred said. “Now, Master Richard, how long is Damian to stay in the chair?”

 “Week. Housebound one more,” Dick said.

 “Save someone and get grounded,” Damian complained.

 “Get _shot_ and get grounded,” Dick corrected.

 “Ha-ha,” Damian grumbled.

 “Who’s holding the streets?” Dick asked.

 “Batgirl and Huntress, mostly,” Alfred said. “Man-bat as well. And Master Jason asked me to keep him updated on the girl Master Damian saved.”

 “She okay?” Damian asked.

 “As of the latest news I could get, yes, though that mask still cannot be removed,” Alfred replied. “Well, Master Damian, since you’ll likely be doing a lot of work with the computerized case files, perhaps I should let you see some more of what you missed.”

.o.o.o.

 “Jason should have known better than to just leave Gotham like this,” Damian huffed a few night later as he continued going through some backlogged cases.

 “I’m sure Master Jason had his reasons,” Alfred said quite reasonably.

 “Him and Drake both needed to leave, though?” Damian wondered. “Something just doesn’t add up.”

 Alfred shook his head and went back to cleaning and repairing more of the weapons on the racks. “I’m sure there was some reason, as I said.”

 “When did they leave, anyway?” Damian wondered.

 “As soon as they knew you’d be home shortly,” Alfred replied only to sigh as Damian began typing furiously. “Master Damian, really?”

 “Something doesn’t add up. If it was just trouble they’d have sent Jason. If it was something to investigate, Drake,” Damian said, flipping through the recently-opened files of the last few nights. “They wouldn’t have both left unless it…was…access…”

 “You brothers often access that vault,” Alfred said gently.

 “Pennyworth, please do me a favor and see if there’s anything in there,” Damian said.

 “Master Damian, you know what is in-”

 “I mean if it’s still there,” Damian said.

 Alfred shook his head and headed off into the depths of the cave. Damian pressed the communications button. “Oracle? Do you know why Batman and Robin are in England?”

 “Investigation, form what I heard,” she replied. “There a problem, kid?”

 “No, just…wondering,” Damian said. “Taking them awhile.”

 “I’m pretty sure they intended to be home by tomorrow,” Barbara said. “They checked in with me about four hours ago. Said they only had one thing left.”

 “I see,” Damian said. “How’s Nightwing?”

 “Just fine. Dealing with some mobsters under that bridge,” Oracle said. “…Blackbird, do you need me to patch you through?”

 “No, I can contact him from here,” Damian said. “Thank you.” He cut communications and sighed.

 “Master Damian…it seems you were correct.”

 Damian groaned and put his head on the console. “Don’t tell Dick. I’ll see if I can find out what they’re doing…

 Damian immediately set to hacking into Tim’s files. It was more than a bit difficult, he’d give Drake that, but eventually he found the real reason for their trip and his jaw dropped.

 “Pennyworth! Pennyworth!” Damian yelled frantically.

 The butler rushed up the steps to him. “Yes, what happened? What is it?”

 “They…those _idiots_ ,” Damian said. “They found a Lazarus Pit. They’re going to try to resurrect him. Try to bring him…oh _shit_ …”

 Alfred nodded, and Damian understood. The man knew that the pits could bring you back wrong, make you mad. “I’m going to call Master Richard. See if Oracle can get a hold of them, Master Damian, maybe we could head them off, talk them out of-”

 The elevator dinged.

 “Dick’s probably still on the West Bridge,” Damian said softly. “And the pit is in England.”

 “Perhaps Masters Jason and Timothy rethought their plan,” Alfred said, reaching across to a shelf and grabbing one of Damian’s short swords. “Perhaps they came home early.” He handed Damian the sword and some Batarangs, keeping a few more projectiles for himself.

 Damian nodded. “Yeah, maybe they just…just realized they were being stupid…”

 “Yes,” Alfred said as the doors opened. “Sir?”

 Damian tasted bile in his mouth and choked it down. “F-fa-father?”

 The person in the batsuit lurched forward. It wasn’t Jason’s version; it was the suit his father had been wearing when…

 “Ho…oh…mm…” it rasped.

 Damian whipped his wheelchair around and swung his sword up. “Pennyworth, any temporary pit-madness should have worn off by now. He had to get here from England.” He sniffed, “What’s that…smell?”

 His eyes widened. Drake had been right all along. This wasn’t the real Bruce Wayne. “Pennyworth, it’s a copy! Those idiots raised some half-dead, mad copy!”

 The copy rushed the stairs up to the platform. Damian threw his Batarangs as Alfred jumped the rail and snatched the thing’s cape, snapping the fabric hard so the wearer tumbled backwards onto the steps.

 Damian reached for his comlink. “Nightwing! Nightwing! You have to get back here now!”

 “What?” Dick’s voice was concerned.

 “Now! They raised—ah!” Damian yelped as his chair was sent careening backwards. He hit the wall and pain shot down his back.

 Pennyworth looked injured but was trying to come up the stairs anyway. That thing was advancing on him.

 Damian shakily stood up…and slammed his wheelchair into the creature’s face. He swung down with the sword, knocking it to the side, and scrabbled for the stairs. “We’re going down, not up!”

 Pennyworth seemed to understand and quickly reversed his direction was well. “Ah, yes, your…tools?”

 “So I keep some knives in there,” Damian muttered as Alfred helped him over to the toolbox. The thing had recovered and was running at them again. “Damn.”

 “Language, Master Damian!” Pennyworth admonished, snatching the sword and cracking the monster across the face with the flat of the blade. “Do you have something we could restrain it with?”

 “Just wires,” Damian said as he grabbed a fistful. “If we could just get its legs together, immobilize it-”

 Pennyworth was seized by the neck.

“NO!” Damian yelled, grabbing the first tool he could reach and ramming it into the thing’s gut.

 Pennyworth the thrown aside, landing in a heap.

 “Now fur u,” the thing grunted. It twisted his wrist, making him drop the tool—oh, a screwdriver, well, maybe it did some damage—and it’s other hand grabbed his neck-brace. “Lil demon’s head…maybe shud lose head!”

 Damian couldn’t move, he just stared at that rotting face. He belatedly tried a swipe with his free hand but the fingers by his neck tightened; it would go for a twist at any second-

 The thing was ripped off him.

 “Master Richard!” Alfred cried in relief as Damian hit the floor.

 Damian watched Dick pulverize the thing; saw the claws dig in with force Dick never used in the field and blood as it flew everywhere. Dick was yelling, obscenities mixed with sentiments of “stay away from him!” and “don’t touch them!” and what Damian guessed were Romani phrases and his hands kept punching and ripping as the screams cracked the man’s voice and became incoherent as that thing turned from monster to mess, flesh ripping, bones crumbling…

 It was a fast, gory spectacle. Soon Dick was crouched over the decaying pieces, panting.

 “Master Richard,” Alfred said, about to head over, but Dick held up a hand.

 “Get Dami his chair.”

 Damian stared at his older brother. The man’s voice sounded dead, defeated. As Alfred went to get his wheelchair, he slowly sat up. “It wasn’t him, Dick.”

 “Realized that.”

 “I…I don’t know what it _was_ , but it wasn’t him.”

 “Okay.” Dick seemed to be having trouble speaking, and Damian was pretty sure he was lying.

 Damian swallowed. “I…do you…need a hug?” Dick seemed to like them and perhaps it would ease the trouble his brother was having.

 “No…not now, Dami. Thanks,” Dick whispered. He pulled off his mask, some of the dead blood streaking his face.

 “The main jet just landed in the hanger, Master Damian,” Pennyworth said quietly.

 “Well, let them come in,” Damian huffed, sneaking a glance at the dead-yet-manic look in Dick’s eyes. “Let them see the mess they made.”

.o.o.o.

 “You used a pit.”

 Jason and Tim stilled as they entered the cave.

 The wrong-Batman corpse was ripped to pieces on the floor, its resurrection over. Damian was in his wheelchair, handing Alfred some ice and sneaking downright terrified glances at Dick.

 Dick was sitting in a low crouch over the corpse, covered in its blood. “You _dared_ to.” His mask was off, and Tim cringed when he saw the look in his brother’s eyes.

 “It wasn’t him,” Tim said quickly. “Like I’d thought, it wasn’t-”

 “You _used a Lazarus Pit_!” Dick bellowed.

 Tim saw Damian flinch back, before noticing that the boy had a few cuts and scrapes as well.

 “It was my idea!” Jason said, pushing Tim aside. “I…I needed him back, Dick. I can’t…I’m shit at Batman, okay, and Gotham-”

 “Fuck Gotham!” Dick yelled, shooting to his feet. “ _Fuck your self-issues and fuck Gotham!_ ” He slammed a foot down on the corpse, making a sickening crunch.

 Tim stumbled over to Damian, and noticed the boy was shaking. Of course. He’d never seen Dick like this, never had a reason to be honestly scared of their protective, doting big brother.

 In a flash Dick was on Jason and Tim knew even if he tried he’d never be able to stop Dick in time if he really went for damage.

 “You know what I saw?” Dick growled.

 Jason shook his head, too shocked to speak.

 “I see this… _twisted_ fake father trying to kill our little brother. Saw him hurt Alfred, hurt Dami, and heard his crazy and I _had_ to kill him. I…I thought I’d killed _Bruce_!” Dick screamed.

 Dick suddenly slumped against Jason, sobbing. “God, I thought I killed Bruce…”

 “I’m sorry,” Jason said. “I’m sorry, I wanted to help everyone and I screwed up and I’m _so sorry_ Dick.”

 Dick made a sort of wordless sob and Jason continued. “Dick, you didn’t kill Bruce, it wasn’t him, I promise you didn’t, I promise you…” He was shaking too now, and his arms came around Dick’s back.

 Tim started to cry, watching both of his brothers break like that. He felt a soft pat on his arm and looked at Damian.

 “You were right,” the kid said. “A…regrettable way to find out, but you were right. Father is not dead.”

 “R-right,” Tim said.

 “You’re the detective, Drake,” Damian said. “How do we find him?”

 “I don’t know,” Tim confessed. “And we don’t have time.”

 “What do you mean, Master Timothy?” Alfred asked.

 “Because a train’s coming,” Tim replied, putting a domino down on the table.


	11. The Christmas Case

 Things settled to normal for a few weeks. The hospital _finally_ figured out how to get the mask off of the girl Damian rescued, and now Jason was making sure Sasha did all right in the foster system. Damian healed and soon he and Dick were patrolling the roofs, occasionally with Stephanie along for the ride.

 But Dick wasn’t himself.

 Damian wanted to comfort Dick somehow, help him, but he didn’t know what to do. His brother had retreated to the near silence of Damian’s early days at the manor. Stephanie had noticed, but Damian couldn’t bring himself to give the full details.

 It was easier to discuss the odd group obsessed with dominos.

 “Black Glove, huh?” Stephanie said. “Why not the Domino Squad?”

 “George Lukas might sue, for one,” Damian said. “…Star Wars cartoon Drake was watching. Stop looking at me like that!”

 “Of course,” Stephanie said. “Wing, thoughts?”

 Dick shook his head.

 “Well, I for one want to know if Robin’s found a code in the dominos or not,” Damian said. “Or if they’re just little ominous leave behinds, like the Joker used to do with cards.”

 “Possible,” Stephanie said. “Personally I doubt they’re as strong as they seem to think. Nobody controls that much in a city, not even Luthor in Metropolis at his best.”

 “Owls,” Dick said. “You’d be surprised.”

 “They are still out there,” Damian acknowledged. “But they’ve been quiet at least.”

 “Not like the glove,” Dick sighed.

 “Right,” Damian agreed. “You see anything odd, Batgirl?”

 “Nothing too odd. Blackbat’s tracking those leads for Robin,” she said. “Uh, Nightwing…you sure you’re up for this?”

 “Yeah,” Dick said. Damian and Stephanie shared a look—he clearly wasn’t.

 “Well, I’m going to patrol in the suburbs,” Stephanie said. “Take care, guys!”

.o.o.o.

 “So…Christmas is soon,” Damian tried.

 Dick nodded, scanning the streets instead of looking at him.

 “…I don’t know what to get Jason and Tim. Ideas?”

 Dick shrugged.

 “Grayson, if you do not talk to me, I will take drastic action.”

 Dick gave him a dry look. Damian made a point of removing his utility belt—and the grapples it contained—before giving Dick a look right back.

 When there was no response, Damian jumped off the skyscraper.

 Sure enough he was quickly seized, dragged back up, and thrown onto the ledge, Dick’s left eye clearly twitching behind the mask.

 “Do. Not.” Dick was rigid and his clawed fingers were flexing.

 “I suppose that’s something of a response,” Damian scoffed, retrieving his belt. “You’re acting like I didn’t know you’d catch me.”

 “Acting like that was an awful trick.”

 “It was, wasn’t it?” Damian asked. “But it proved something. So, since you are not talking, I will be. I am now going to prove the hypothesis that you should get over what happened a little over a month ago.”

 “Damian,” Dick said warningly.

 “As I jumped, you were already moving to grab me. The angle at which you caught me suggested that, had the building been of lesser height and your grapple not worked, you would have taken the brunt of the fall yourself. Naturally I had calculated the building height properly, but the evidence stands that not only did you properly save me, you did so in every way that would put yourself at risk had I not carefully planned this but instead been trying to kill myself for some odd reason.”

 Dick folded his arms, not looking too impressed.

 “Thus, you are clearly more of a hero than you are a killer, as you only attacked the clone when it was about to likely snap my head off, hence acting in self-defense of a family member and being wholly justified.”

 “Overkill.”

 “Blame it on anger and adrenaline,” Damian replied. “I am going to hug you now.”

 Dick patted Damian on the head, “You really aren’t a hugger.”

 “Excuse my poor technique, I am more often on the receiving e-e-end!” Damian yelped as Dick snatched him up in a rib-crushing hug. “Are you feeling better?”

 “…No. But that was a nice speech,” Dick admitted.

 “What?” Damian yelped.

 “Don’t worry, Dami. I’ll get over it…eventually…shit,” Dick swore, nodding at the river.

 Damian gulped. There was a body floating in it. A very small body.

.o.o.o.

 “Wow,” Jason said as Damian shifted through the photos he’d taken of the scene. “Just…just wow.”

 “Overkill,” Dick said quietly. Damian shot him a worried look, but Dick shrugged it off. 

 “The wounds were probably inflicted over a short period of time,” Tim said. “Death from blood loss and pain, most likely.”

 “Or ruptured organs, since several of them clearly experienced blunt force trauma,” Damian said, bringing up the police’s file on the same case.

 “How long?” Jason asked.

 “First body was found a month ago. They were only connected last week. Then there were the five in the river today,” Damian said.

 “Damian, do you need some water? You look…ah…green,” Tim said.

 “Yeah. Water’s good,” Damian said. Dick quickly handed him a bottle. The color began to return to his face as he sipped it. “How did no one notice?”

 “Most likely street kids,” Jason said. “Take it from someone who knows. A lot of them…people don’t know they even exist in the first place.”

 “So, what, stakeout the river?” Tim guessed.

 “Too late. The press found out,” Jason said. “Whoever it is, they’ve moved.”

 “So we have a killer on the loose. Welcome to Gotham,” Damian sighed.

.o.o.o.

 “Hoodie and DVD.”

 “What?” Damian asked.

 “Give Jay a hoodie. He likes them,” Dick said. “Timmy likes movies, maybe a comedy?”

 “Oh. Thank you,” Damian said.

 “…You never asked what I wanted,” Dick said.

 “Tt. How do you know I am not merely gifting you with my continued presence?”

 “Because otherwise your gift gets returned.”

 “Touché. I know what I am getting you. That is all.”

.o.o.o.

 “Damn it!” Jason yelled.

 “Calm down,” Tim advised.

 “So, victim number has officially doubled,” Damian noted.

 “Humpty Dumpty thought he was helping, thought giving the dead kids somewhere to rest for Christmas would help them…I can’t be mad at him…but damn,” Jason sighed.

 “Total?” Dick asked.

 “Now? Over fifty,” Tim said. “I don’t think even Joker’s had a string that long over time before getting caught.”

 “How can we call ourselves heroes when we can’t even stop…whatever this is?” Jason sighed.

.o.o.o.

 “Thanks, kid,” Jason said, admiring his new red and gray hoodie. “Very nice. Love the barbed wire stuff on the sleeves.”

 Damian nodded, still flipping through the books Dick had gotten him. He rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly.

 “You okay?” Tim asked.

 “Slept funny,” Damian said. “Have been for a few nights.”

 “Okay,” Tim said, going back to texting Beast Boy.

 Dick groaned in frustration as his unwrapped his present against to reveal yet another layer.

 “I used those weeks you grounded me well, huh?” Damian asked, smirking.

 Dick glared at him and kept unwrapping.

 “Kid, that present better be awesome because you’re torturing the only one of us you like,” Jason said.

 “And used an excessive amount of paper to do so,” Alfred added, bagging the discarded layers.

 Dick finally got fed up and snatched the samurai-sword letter opener Alfred had gotten Damian, using it to cut through the remaining layers. He then almost cut himself as he dropped the letter opener, Tim only just catching it.

 “What is…okay kid, spill. How?” Tim asked.

 “Grayson’s last name, combined with a newspaper search netted me the name of the circus,” Damian said. “The I just went through the web for weeks getting information to put together. He mentioned wishing he remembered some of it better.”

 Dick slowly paged through the booklet, full of articles and pictures of Haly’s Circus. “Damian…”

 “If you must get mushy, do so now,” Damian sighed. Dick tackled him in a hug. “Called it.”

 “Can it,” Dick said.

.o.o.o.

 “How are you sleeping like that?”

 Damian jerked awake, groping for a weapon before realizing it was just Tim. He then realized he was once again in a contorted position. “Damned if I know.”

 “I saw you tossing and turning through a crack in the door. You have nightmares?” Tim said.

 “Never enough to cause position issues, and I don’t recall any anyway,” Damian huffed, before flushing as he realized who he just admitted that to. “What are you doing up?”

 “Like I sleep,” Tim said. Damian had to admit, that was pretty much true.

 Tim went to leave, “That was nice, what you got Dick. And thanks for the movies.”

 “Whatever,” Damian huffed.

 Tim paused, “…If you want, Alfred can try giving you something to really knock you out tomorrow night…tonight. It’s 2 a.m. Whatever. You know.”

 “Yeah,” Damian said. “…What were you doing?”

 “River case,” Tim said, yawning. “Other files. You know me.”

 “Yes. You are sadly quite obsessive.”

 “As you are sadly quite a pain,” Tim returned, heading out.

 Damian frowned—Tim’s room and the cave were both in the other direction.

.o.o.o.

 “You found all of this and didn’t say anything?” Jason asked.

 “I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up—I know you all knew I thought it, but now I’m sure,” Tim said. “Though I’m annoyed you found out because the brat wonder stalked me!”

 “Screw you, Drake, be glad I gave a damn,” Damian replied as Dick went over the various clues Tim had compiled.

 “Treasure hunt?” Dick asked.

 “Through time,” Tim said. “I don’t think it killed him. I think it sent Bruce into a time vortex or something. And this is him letting us know he’s okay and coming home.”

 “Let’s leave Gotham to the GPD and the girls tonight,” Jason said. “Boys, let’s go hunting.”


	12. Hacked Treasure Hunt

“Okay, if Father is behind this, he really knew us well,” Damian said. “Only Dick would check the rafters that thoroughly, only Jason would randomly go spelunking and thus know every part of the caves, only Drake would be able to put all this insanity together so we’d look, and only I would have bothered researching all of father’s family history out of sheer boredom.”

“Yeah, doing history doesn’t exactly make one not bored,” Jason said as Tim continued laying everything out.

“Speak for yourself,” Damian said.

“Guys,” Dick said warningly.

“Okay,” Tim said. “So we know there’s a portrait missing…here,” he marked part of the manor blueprints, “that Dick found, and he’s pointing, so Dick and Damian are going to look at what he’s pointing towards…and Jason and I are going to this point in the cave,” another circle, “and find a tunnel or something.”

“Or something?” Jason asked.

“Jason, do not talk to me until I’ve had more coffee,” Tim sighed. Dick passed him another cup. “Thank you so much.”

Dick nodded, looking over the map, “Looks like the library.”

“We spend a ton of time in there—what are we going to find?” Damian wondered.

“Nobody knows,” Jason said in a spooky voice. “Which is why we’re looking, kid.”

“Jay, focus,” Tim said. “There’s something about this…add in where the portrait should be pointing…the window in the library…that statue in the grave yard-holy-shit-my-god.”

“It’s a Bat Signal,” Jason whispered in awe. “Timmy, you found a Bat Signal!

“It’s him,” Dick agreed. “Who else?”

“Got that right!” Jason whooped. “All right, now we start looking. Dick, Damian go back to where that passage was in the library. Timmy, get ready for more cave diving.”

“Joy,” Tim said, still nursing his coffee. “But, no. I’ve got a meeting with my informant. The one who told me about the Black Glove in the first place.”

“Fine. I guess Steph would look hotter in a bathing suit anyway,” Jason mused.

.o.o.o.

“Just a bunch of armor and European style swords,” Damian huffed, tugging one from a suit’s hands and eyeing it with disdain. “Poorly balanced swords, I might add.”

“Too old. Older than Gotham,” Dick said. “Here on purpose.”

“I agree,” Damian said. “Damn, who would think this kind of hilt was good any…”

“Dami?” Dick prompted when his brother didn’t answer him. He turned around. Damian was looking at the sword. “Find something?”

Damian didn’t reply, making Dick a bit uneasy, “What, sword made that bad—urk!”

He lunged back as Damian suddenly swung it at him. “Easy!”

“Not…not…”

“Damian, put down the sword,” Dick said tightly. Something told him that wouldn’t happen.

“Can’t. Trying,” Damian said, his body oddly rigid. “Can’t.”

“Breathe. Let go,” Dick said, creeping closer to disarm him when the sword tore into his shoulder armor. “Damian!”

“I can’t stop!” Damian screamed. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I can’t!”

“Dami, what is it?” Dick asked, ducking another swing of the sword. “Talk, okay? Keep talking!” Damian had to keep talking, because Dick was staring to panic and _he_ wasn’t going to be talking much longer and oh god, Dami was going to have to keep _himself_ from going under because Dick couldn’t talk under this kind of stress and how could he leave him like that?

“S-spine,” Damian growled. “M-m-mother…”

Another hack, but something was odd—a lot of those strikes were for someone taller than Dami, taller than Dick. Wait— _mother_? Talia was doing this?

Dick had to fight himself to stay focused, to keep Damian here and not hurt either of them even though he wanted to _find that witch_ and _make her pay_ for doing thisto _her own son_. He had to shove away the thoughts of blood and vengeance and focus on saving his brother.

“But…she’s not controlling…it’s…ARG!” Damian screamed and then kept screaming, this time in fury. “Kill you, Grayson! Kill you for what you’ve done!”

No, no, Damian, he had to know Dick was trying to—of course. It was whoever was controlling him. Okay. He needed to speak.

“Get out of him!” he yelled. He managed to pin Damian, only for his brother to twist out from under him. “Who are you?”

As soon as he knew, he’d hunt that person down, hunt them and _hurt_ them for daring to-

“SLADE!” Damian screamed, only this scream seemed like his and not the controlled-voice.

Slade?

Dick saw red.

He grabbed Damian and threw him to the floor. “Get out, Wilson!” He grabbed Damian’s hood and stabbed it into the wall with a batarang. “Hear me?”

“Neural link….” Damian gasped. “Hurt…him…too…”

Dick growled. Of course. The first time he’d ever really had Slade Wilson at his mercy, and all it would take was hurting his little brother to damage the man. _Of course_.

He had to do something bad enough for Slade to break the link, but not seriously hurt Damian. Had to keep his head together and not hurt Damian.

“Going to leave your baby brother hanging?” Slade mocked from Damian’s mouth.

Dick grinned. Of course. Damian was his little brother—he was young. Slade was old, healing factor or no…and so was his _heart_. “Trust me, Dami.”

He wrapped his hands around Damian’s neck and started to choke. Damian’s heart was stronger and could force blood through a light choking, but Slade’s would have more trouble, but would feel compelled to imitate as though Slade were Damian... He just had to keep the pressure and timing right, and he could give the old man a stroke, especially because Slade’s head used more blood than the average one anyway.

Damian’s brow was scrunched in pain. “Keep it up…” he wheezed. “He’s…losing…it…”

Dick nodded. After he was reasonably sure, he lessened the pressure, just keeping a light grip. “What was the first nice thing you did for me?” He had to check, though.

“Destroyed and remade your bike,” Damian gasped. “And then I wore those socks….I think he’s gone. I don’t feel him.”

Dick swallowed tightly, nodding. “Dami, I need to….knock you out.”

“I know.”

Dick nodded, doing so. He’d take his brother by Dr. Tompkins’ clinic to see if she had any ideas…and if that didn’t work he’d just go to the JLA. Somebody they knew could fix this.

Then he’d have to have a few words with Talia.

.o.o.o.

“So our mysterious informant was the fucking Joker?” Jason yelled. “Fuck this shit, I am going to go get that clown right now and-”

“He went quietly,” Tim said. “Even though it was just me.”

Jason snarled and went to bang his head on the wall, only to shrink back at a sharp look from Barbara.

“I’m monitoring him through the prison’s cameras,” she said. “And Arkham is almost rebuilt, too. So don’t go giving yourself a concussion over this.”

Stephanie poked her head out of the room, “Guys, good news or bad?”

“Reverse order,” Tim said.

“Okay, bad news, the stuff it literally so small that Leslie can’t get at it without a high risk of spinal damage,” Stephanie said.

“Oh no,” Barbara said.

“Good?” Jason asked.

“She thinks it’s linked to a specific machine that had to be synced with it before it was put in. Wreck the machine, and no other can do the job,” Stephanie said. “So Dick made me stall by telling you guys all of it so that he and Damian can go handle that.”

“As the actual oldest, despite not being a relation, I’m grounding Dick,” Barbara sighed.

“Good luck. Bruce could barely manage that,” Jason said. “Make sure Alfred’s on board and it _might_ work.”

.o.o.o.

Once again Damian was privy to Dick’s more vicious side as the man clawed his way through his mother’s ninjas, into a control room, and planted a fist squarely in a control panel before attacking the thing with what looked like electro-claws that Damian couldn’t classify as anything but awesome-looking.

Talia’s loud snaps for Dick to stop were unheeded, and Damian shot her a shocked look when she ordered her son to “bring the attack dog to heel!”

“Richard, do you heel?” Damian asked dryly. It seemed appropriate.

Dick looked at the wrecked machine, satisfied, and nodded.

“Damian, we need to talk,” Talia said.

“Talk,” Dick said, shrugging.

“Alone.”

“No.”

“I will be fine, Richard,” Damian said.

Dick’s eyes were hard, never leaving Talia, cataloguing any weaknesses she might have. “You’ll bring him back.”

“Or?” Talia asked.

Dick’s fists clenched. “He’s not your _soldier_. He’s my _brother_. And I’ll make you sorry.”

Damian frowned. Dick usually had no trouble with simply acknowledging that he’d seriously hurt person, if given half a chance…but he said he’d make his mother _sorry_.

For some reason, Damian found that more threatening.

Talia shook her head. “Come, Dami.”

Damian followed her. He heard Dick walk off as well, his destination unknown.

“The _nerve_ of that man,” Talia muttered. “Dami, take off that ridiculous costume.”

Damian looked down at his jumpsuit. “Why?”

Talia huffed. “Dami, it would be bad enough if you were dressed as Robin, but at least _that_ might signify a step towards gaining your father’s mantle. But this? You’re playing sidekick to a damaged weapon.”

“Dick Grayson is _not_ a weapon, nor is he _damaged_ ,” Damian defended.

“Please, that little threat of his was more than he’s ever said at a time,” Talia said. “I’m amazed he knew enough words to get his point across."

Damian bristled. His mother didn’t know of his talks with Dick, or how smart the man really was. But even she _had_ to know he was more intelligent than to be able not to communicate a basic protective sentiment.

“Dick is a better man than you think,” he said. “And a better mentor.”

“Dami, I’m trying to help you. Give up this silliness and come home,” Talia said.

Damian straightened his back. “It’s not silliness.”

“Very well, I was afraid you’d say that,” Talia said. “I’d like to show you something.”

.o.o.o.

Dick grabbed a hold of him as soon as he’d gotten back from his mother’s little…revelation.

The acrobat frowned as his analyzed his little brother. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you in the plane,” Damian muttered. “You?”

“Saw Slade.”

Damian grinned. Dick had been furious to find out just who had been controlling him. That had to have been an interesting encounter. “I see.”

Dick only took his hand off Damian’s shoulder when they reached the jet. He nodded at the copilot’s seat before heading around to get in himself.

Well away from Talia’s base, Dick turned on the autopilot. “Talk.”

Damian nodded. “She…told me that I was no longer welcome…and enemy of the House of Al Gul. I told her I’d try to be a worthy one.”

Dick sent him a small smile for that tidbit.

Damian swallowed, his throat going dry at the other part of what had happened. “She…said she doesn’t need me anymore. She showed me…my little brother.”

He saw the shock, though Dick was clearly trying to mask it.

“She cloned me,” he whispered. “My mother…cloned me.”

This time the shock showed much more plainly. Dick reached out and cupped his jaw.

“I’m sorry.”

Damian nodded, not pulling away from the contact. He’d gotten used to it, and it was comforting.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Damian muttered. “I just wasn’t…perfect enough I guess.”

“Perfection is dumb. Ask Jason,” Dick said flatly. “Or me. Or Steph.”

“Drake?”

“That worldview’s not shattered yet. Innocent.”

“Who does he think is perfect, then?” Damian asked.

“Bruce,” Dick said. “Babs. Jay.”

“Jason would never believe him.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“…Perfection doesn’t exist, Richard, but you do an admirable job of achieving it anyway.”

“Not perfect, Dami.”

Damian shuddered slightly, his mother’s ‘broken weapon’ comment still oh too fresh. “Well, I’m ten. Let me have my delusions like you let Tim have his.”

The rest of the ride to Gotham was quiet, Dick smiling as Damian dozed off due to the scenic route.

“Pretty close yourself, when you want to be,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! good news is I have up to the next interlude written so I'll post pretty quickly. Comments are loved!


	13. Still Bleeding

“Jason I…we need to talk,” Tim said, not caring if he woke Cass up because he had let this go too far and damn it he shouldn’t have left Jay alone to go to Hong Kong and... “We really need to…you need to hear this, okay?”

“What?” Jason asked. “Oh god, there’s some catch to Dad coming back, isn’t there? What do we have to do? Stop the apocalypse?” He sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

“No, well, _maybe_ —gah, Jason, just listen,” Tim said firmly, his grip on the com tightening. “You…I want him back too, _so bad_ , but you have to listen to me.” He took a deep breath before speaking into his com as clearly as he could. “We have to talk about you being Batman.”

“Why?”

Tim didn’t need to see him to know Jason was throwing up mental walls and probably hugging himself with the arm that wasn’t holding the phone. He could see it, as a matter of fact, in his mind, the arm right where Jason’s chest had been flayed open by an explosive, fingers twitching just above the pectoral… “Tim, why do we have to-”

“Because you have it in your head that you’re a bad Batman!” Tim snapped. “And I’m here to tell you that you’re not!”

“Here?” Jason teased, seizing on the slip.

“Home, Hong Kong, whatever. Don’t try to change the subject. Look, you’re not a bad Batman…actually, watching you…I think you’re a better Batman than I ever could be.”

Tim knew Jason hadn’t hung up, and was probably processing the sentence. He knew his older brother had him mentally on some kind of mini-pedestal, had conceded at Tim was a better detective and metaphorically thrown in the towel, as if that was ever how this kind of thing worked.

But Batman wasn’t just a detective. “Jason you…you’re a really, really good Batman. You’re a protector, an avenger, someone who fights when no one else will…that’s Batman, Jason. No amount of me being smart or Damian being a good fighter or Dick being, well, Dick, can ever take that away from you. You don’t see it, but you’re more Batman than any of us, and not just because you’re the one in the suit right now.”

“Tell Damian that.”

Again with the attempt at humor to throw him off. Damn it, he should have done this when he was home…but he didn’t know if he’d have the time then… “Nah. Kid’s carving his own way. I think he may swear off the cowl just to tick off his mom.”

“Then tell Ras.”

There was a challenge this time. Tim sighed. With Bruce dead, he’d been the latest “interest” of the Demon’s Head. Jason had been really weird for a few nights after he heard Ras call Tim “Detective,” the honorific normally reserved for Bruce.

“Yes, because trusting supervillains serves us well, Jay.”

“You know what I mean-”

“Well, do _you_ get what _I_ mean?” Tim demanded. “Jason, you need to stop thinking about one failure and defining yourself by it! You are Batman, and no past can take that away!”

More silence. “See you when you get home, Tim.”

Tim managed a few words before he realized Jason had already hung up. He put his com at his hip, before frowning and taking at back out again. “Damian?”

“What do you want?”

“…How’s Jason been while I’m away?”

There was a pause and Tim heard Damian say, “Dick, Drake wants to know if Jason’s acting weird.”

Tim groaned. He hadn’t wanted Dick on this, at least not until he knew more…

“Dick says he’s been looser, more relaxed,” Damian relayed. “That help?”

“I take it you’ve been avoiding him?”

“No. Been working a case with Oracle and Brown. Dick’s had Jason,” Damian said. “I haven’t even been home for three days until now.”

“Tell Dick he gives you too long a leash,” Tim said before he could stop himself.

There was a pause and Damian said, “He says actually he just gave it to Brown. You two both have lost brother-points.”

“I don’t think Dick made those up so they could be used against him,” Tim said.

“I’m getting that from the glare,” Damian conceded.

“Look, Damian…how do you think Jason’s doing?”

“…I don’t know. I thought we just established-”

“No, no, as…you know. His job,” Tim said.

“Well, my mother sees him as being ‘adequate’ so I’d assume he’s doing better than that,” Damian offered.

“Your mother,” Tim confirmed.

“Yes.”

“The person currently running most of the Demon’s Head?”

“Why are you reminding me of that?” Damian asked, sounding peeved.

“Listen very carefully, Damian. You are to locate Jason. You are to tell him that. Dick is not to go with you. You are to find some reason to tell him that without it pointing at me. Are we clear?”

Damian sighed, “Tt. Is that all? Don’t tell me he’s having-”

“Damian do not finish that sentence and do it and I’ll-”

“I don’t need to be bribed to act like a member of this family, Drake.” Damian hung up on him.

Tim groaned. Either he’d helped or screwed up, and he wouldn’t know until he was home.

He went to find Cassandra. He needed to beat up criminals right now.

.o.o.o.

“Dami?” Dick asked.

“Excuse me, Dick. I need to go be a member of this family and aid Jason’s ego,” Damian said.

“…What?” Dick asked quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know this is short but that's because it leads into the next interlude: Hooded--Jason's story in Jason's words.


	14. Interlude 2: Hooded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason Todd's story in his own words

So you want my story, huh? Fine, but you better stay quiet.

I still don’t know why Bruce took me in. Timmy could walk in the room right now and ask and would end up having to be the one giving reasons because _I have no idea_.

It doesn’t make sense. I was just a ten year old trying to make a buck so my adoptive mom could get her medicine. There had to be some mobster who’d want _the_ tires from _the_ Batmobile…looking back, how would I have proved what they were from, exactly? God I suck at planning.

So, I try to steal the tires and dun-dun-dun! Batman shows up. I think I’m screwed…and get asked what I think I’m doing. Then why I’m doing it. Then told to get in the car.

Batman took me to the Batcave— _the Batcave,_ cue massive childish “holy crap this is so cool!” moment—and asked if I’d like to stay here for a bit and get some food. And the money for my mom.

I remember seeing a short maybe-teenager around, but the boy didn’t confront me so I’d ignored him. I’d been fed by a butler, given some money, and the butler dropped me off at the pharmacy.

The next day Bruce Wayne was at my door. And then talking with my mom. And then my mom was checking into a hospital—it had been worse than I was told—and I was going to Wayne Manor.

I will again reiterate that I had no damn clue why this was happening. Not until I saw him in the kitchen—the boy from the cave. The _Batcave_.

“You’re Batman,” I’d said.

“Yes,” Bruce replied. “And I’d like to help you, if you’d let me.”

“I don’t need help,” I said. I needed help. No shit I needed help. But I’m from a world where you never said you needed help. I didn’t need help when I found out my mom’s not my birth mom, just dad’s girlfriend who’s been around a while. I didn’t need help when my dad got shot by Two-Face. I didn’t need help when my mom came home and told me she’s sick and they won’t let her work.

I didn’t need it in that world. I couldn’t admit it in this new one.

Just like my mom didn’t admit that she was dying. Yeah, that was real fun to find out. My mom was dying and I was staying with some randomly generous billionaire who’s also a superhero and his never-stressed butler and his creepy non-talking kid. Sure.

Sure. Right. Whatever.

And yes, I just called Dick creepy. He kind of was back then.

So little me is thinking: when does the other shoe drop?

I waited. Believe me, I was so totally waiting. I knew what Child Services vans looked like and I was waiting for them to show up. Totally waiting. I knew I didn’t fit in here. I knew it. Sure, I did okay in the Batcave, doing some of the exercises Batman gave me and stuff and sparring with Dick but…I wasn’t someone who belonged around Bruce Wayne.

Then Dick hugged me.

Yes, I know, it sounds really stupid, but he hugged me. He called me his little brother and told me he _loved me_. He asked if I loved him too…I said yes because, well, I’d heard about the assassin training by then and the guy had me pinned and he just said it first anyway.

And he told me Bruce loved me. And I was all like “okay?” because I’d been there, what, a month or so?

So, yeah, still in shock and all but…then Bruce came to talk to me. He told me that he wasn’t so good at emotions and wondered if maybe I wasn’t happy.

He told me he’d like to adopt me.

I kind of blacked out around that part. Yeah, I’m a weirdo like that.

But I got to be Robin. You wanted to hear about that, right? How I became Robin?

So, yeah….Dick made a costume. Apparently, he can sew. That’s who kept fixing my clothes behind my back, too. He called me a “little Robin” and I went with it. Totally didn’t know the meaning behind the name, either. Swear to god I didn’t. Didn’t until around the time I gave it to Timmy. Again, swearing here.

So, I got to be Robin. I totally loved it. I belonged somewhere and could actually…you know, do something for our lovely hellhole of a city. I wasn’t some powerless kid from Crime Alley anymore, I had the power!

If you were Tim, you’d make a He-Man joke there. I know, I know, you’re not him.

And it was great. The Robin stuff, I mean. Because…well, I sucked at being Dad…no, _Wayne’s_ son. Like, really sucked. Finally he got Superman, who has reporting experience, to come by to tell me how to not make the press focus on me.

Didn’t work so great. I was considered the wild-child of Gotham High Society, the charity case with no manners, yadda-yadda. Dick even offered to act up—and show up; he slipped away so easily at those things—in order to make me feel better.

Now, see, here’s where I do something stupid. Like, the stupidest thing I ever did. Counting the thing with Timmy, Steph, and those fireworks and Joker Fish, too. _Stupidest_.

See, my mom, my adoptive mom, she’d died when I was eleven. And…let’s say Jason Todd had been having an identity crisis for awhile. That continued until the age of say…thirteen. And since I didn’t want to talk about it and Dad didn’t push and Dick had no social skills it festered? And…maybe I decided to find my real mom?

Haha, yeah you know where this one’s going. Stop nodding like that, I’ll sock you.

So yeah, find my mom, Sheila Haywood. Find her and um…go see her. In Qurac. By stealing one of Dad’s jets. And, um, I told her I could get there so fast because I was Robin. And somehow she owed the Joker or was working for him or for someone who owed him or something. And told him Robin was coming and get there fast.

Captured. Tick-tick-boom.

I woke up in a weird hospital and saw Talia Al Ghul. I blacked out again, woke up in a normal hospital with Dad and Dick-with-his-arm-in-a-sling. They’d gotten Superman to help find me since Dick had panicked enough for Dad to screw his pride.

Turns out Superman broke Dick’s arm to snap him to his senses—yeah, I know you know Dick’s lost it to the super-assassin persona sometimes but I didn’t yet, the idea of Dick actually, well, killing a person and having a freak out seemed weird to me then, okay? Dick killed the Joker. Dad resuscitated him—yes, I know, _ew_ —but Dick fucking killed the Joker over me. See, they thought I was dead. The found bits of my mom, and assumed some bits were me until Talia showed up and said no, she had me.

Yeah that was back when she and Dad were on good terms.

See…I kind of avoided Dad for a while. I thought I had died, and Talia brought me back with a Lazarus Pit. And I know how much Dad hates those things.

I found out I hadn’t died—damn close, but apparently I was fighting enough to survive to impress Ras so he let Talia help me. Dad was only iffy because he was worried Ras would invoke the “favor” down the road—nothing to do with me. Which he never told me about and I never asked about and Dick never figured—god I’m glad Timmy eventually came along and made everyone properly communicate.

Anyways, that’s when I finally changed my last name to Wayne, not Todd. Fresh start, you know?

Oh, oh, right, Timmy. See, I was spending time with the Titans with Dick…what was I, seventeen? I think that’s right. Anyway, bumped into this kid when I was home, he knew who we were and helped me solve a case, I’m like “holy crap, this kid is _smart_!” and kind of maybe started training him…yeah, Dad reamed me, I got grounded, became Red Hood because I felt like saying “screw you” to the Joker and told Timmy “hey, Robin’s open!”

No, seriously, I did all that in like a week. Took Dick forever to figure out how it worked, when he wasn’t declaring Timmy was our new brother despite no relation.

Got awkward when Timmy’s dad died. Sure, his folks were divorced but, um, Dick stopped making that comment…well, not in the same way. Still, Timmy had us, his mom, his step-dad, and Young Justice. God I loved teasing those twinkies. Impulse always cracked me up and Superboy had no, I repeat, _no_ fashion sense. I was starting to suspect color blindness.

Then…Timmy’s mom died. And then his step-dad found out he was Robin. While I was on their couch.

I’d never jumped out a fourth story window in civvies before that.

So, Timmy quit Robin, and kind of broke Superboy’s heart. All right, all right, they weren’t really dating but _come on_ we all saw it. So Spoiler asks if she can be Robin. She wants in on the circle and thinks it’ll draw Timmy back since they’re pals or exes or whatever.

Totally worked. I now worship the ground on which she walks. And not just because she pulled a fake-death because Black Mask unmasked her and she had to leave until Catwoman killed him—too ahead of myself?

Oh, and then Tim’s stepdad, who has now accepted his role as Robin, dies. From one of the Flash’s rogues. That left me screaming “what the hell?” for five minutes straight. And then Superboy and Impulse. And then…and then Dad.

Yeah, so, here I am, being Batman with Timmy as my Robin-with-so-many-issues-now and Dick of being Nightwing and having a sidekick: you, everyone’s favorite little demon—hey, hey, watch it!—and we get to protect Gotham…

I’ve mentioned I don’t think I’m doing a good job, right?

Oh, come on, mock me damn it! You do it all the time, why not now? Come on, resurrecting the wrong corpse, that thing where Pyg pretty much drugged Timmy to the gills, calling your mom a bitch that time?

Quit giving me that look, you little demon. It’s too much like Dick, okay? I’m not a good Batman, okay?

Damn it I’m so happy Timmy was right. I mean, now we can find Dad, we know he’s out there. Somehow, I just know our dad’s out there…and god to we need him back _here_.

**You know, Jason, you’re more than adequate as Batman.**

I’m sorry, what?

**Don’t make me repeat it. But….my mother underestimates all of us, and she referred to you as an adequate Batman. Therefore one must assume you are more than adequate. I’m sure Father would agree.**

You mean that, don’t you? Um…don’t tell Tim and Dick about this, they’ll try to give me anti-depression therapy again and—shit get back here! Damian I swear you breathe one word and you will pay!


	15. Making Friends

“Dick, eat the damn soup, you’re making Alfred feel bad.”

“Language, Master Jason,” Alfred scolded.

Dick glared at them both.

“Look, the sooner you get better, the sooner you’re not housebound, got it?” Jason sighed.

“Is he always like this when he’s sick?” Damian asked Tim from the doorway.

“Yeah—Jay’s being a hypocrite though, he’s worse,” Tim said as Dick and Jason entered a glaring contest. “Honestly when you had that bad cold in the winter you were better behaved than either of them ever are.”

“Amazing, you managed to compliment me without gagging,” Damian noted.

“Like I’m going to insult you when you haven’t been out in a few nights,” Tim said. “I’m not suicidal, brat.”

“Glad to know your mental health is improving,” Damian said.

“Yes, now we just have to fix yours-”

“Really now,” Alfred said sternly, joining them in the hall. “We already have two brothers arguing, do we not?”

Damian and Tim both mumbled vague apologies before parting ways.

Alfred turned at a yelp to see Jason wearing the soup bowl on his head and Dick smirking. “For that, Master Richard, you are not to get out of bed for the rest of the day.”

Dick groaned and flopped back.

.o.o.o.

“So you think Richard slipped his flu shot?” Damian asked Stephanie as they looked for somewhere to suit up.

“I know he doesn’t like getting stuck with things. Last time I saw him get antitoxin Jason was pinning him down,” she replied. “Ah, conveniently placed chimneys!”

“Well, at least it will have run its course soon,” Damian said as he began a quick-change. “Your presence is insufferable.”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too, you little pain in the neck. You’d better not be looking!”

“Tt. Looking at what?”

“If I didn’t need you to help with these gun runners, you’d be so dead.”

“We both know you don’t have the skill for that.”

“Yeah, but I’d tell Dick and he’d shame you to death.”

“Low, Brown. Very low.”

.o.o.o.

Two nights later, Damian carefully stashed his Blackbird costume on his bike.

They still hadn’t solved the Christmas thing, so he had a new plan: live bait. He’d com Stephanie if something happened, and they’d track his com to find him. Easy.

.o.o.o.

“Jason, he hasn’t checked in,” Stephanie said.

“Batman if you’re on coms!” Jason hissed.

“Oh…well I’m on a cell, anyway, he hasn’t checked in and I think his com’s off and god that kid is an idiot, why did I let him talk me into this and what was that sound?”

“Well, now Dick’s breaking into the gear closet, saying he’s going to ground the kid again. Thank you for informing us of this on speaker.”

“ _I_ didn’t put me on speaker, idiot!”

.o.o.o.

Damian had never felt weaker.

He’d been captured.

He’s realized he’d left his com with his suit, and turned off as well.

He’d been captured with another kid.

The other kid, Colin, had superpowers and was currently kicking more ass than he was.

Life was just _mean_ sometimes.

“You know, now Zsasz can technically tell people what you look like,” the bulked-up redhead said.

“We all look the same to him. Already dead,” Damian replied, his nose twitching as the drying blood started to irritate his face. It made a lousy mask, but he’d needed a mask. Someone might notice Bruce Wayne’s youngest beating up horrible examples of humanity.

On the other hand, Colin seemed to know what he was doing and Damian had to admit…leaving aside his bruised pride…that this was actually kind of fun. Someone his own age in the same line of life. Kind of nice.

Colin yelled as Zsasz stabbed him.

Oh, _hell_ no.

Damian lunged, hacking away with the blade he’d stolen. Zsasz never thought to care for his own life, to care that someone would kill him one day, never even thought it could happen-

“Don’t!”

And Damian was on the defensive as he was distracted.

“Don’t _what_?” he demanded, annoyed.

“Don’t kill him!” Colin replied. “Heroes don’t kill!”

And Damian could probably correct him on that with various obscure references…or Wonder Woman, she sometimes did…but anyway fine, if it kept the kid from throwing a fit…

He pulled the last slash, badly injuring Zsasz’s spine and letting him fall in the river. Technically, he was still alive.

“…Heroes don’t kill?” Damian asked dryly. When he’d been picking the lock of the cage, Colin had mentioned liking a lot of the Gotham heroes.

“Yeah,” Colin said. “They don’t. Blackbird?”

“Right.” In the same line of business and decently intelligent. This was getting better by the moment.

Nightwing crashed through a window.

Damian’s thoughts over how grounded he was and if Dick was really over the flu or just ticked at his baby brother stopped short when he realized Dick was about to lunge at Colin. Who was standing next to Damian, both covered in blood.

Dick’s teeth bared in a snarl, clearly intending to take his worry out on the redhead he only saw as a threat.

“No!” Damian said, putting himself between Nightwing and Colin. “No, Nightwing, he’s with me! He saved me!”

Nightwing gave him a hard look. “Car. All three. Explain then.”

.o.o.o.

Dick almost choked when the huge man shrank down to a boy barely larger than Damian. His pants, stretched by the transformation, were soon held up with a chain of Dick’s utility belt’s zip-ties as a belt as he scrambled into the backseat.

Dick tried to keep it simple. “You investigated. Alone. As _bait._ ”

“Yes. I apologize,” Damian said, picking at the stripe of blood on his face.

“You two met.”

“Yes, Mr. Nightwing,” the redhead—Damian had called him Colin—said. Damian tossed the kids his jacket, letting the redhead cover up a bit more.

“You both got caught.” Dick tossed Damian some wipes to remove the blood.

“Yes,” Damian said. “I…left my phone on my bike…with my costume…in a bunker…”

“Dami went after Zsasz alone.”

“He knocked me out,” Colin said.

“You saved Dami’s ass,” Dick continued.

“Essentially,” Damian grumbled.

“And Zsasz?”

“Not dead. He stopped me,” Damian admitted sadly. “I…wanted to…”

Dick shuddered. He hadn’t been there. Damian almost slipped and someone else, someone they didn’t even know had been the one to stop him. “Thank you, Colin.”

“You’re welcome,” the boy said, blushing slightly.

“You’re one of his heroes. He thinks a lot about heroes,” Damian supplied. “Batman saved him once.”

Dick filed that away, including the flattery. “Address, Colin?”

“St. Aiden’s. Um…drop me off a couple blocks away?” the boy asked hopefully.

“O, this is Nightwing. What’s St. Aiden’s?”

Colin gulped and Damian gave him a small shrug.

“An orphanage. Why?”

“We needed directions is all bye,” Damian said, switching off their mike. “Please don’t tell.”

“Why?”

“…I want to be friends,” Damian said, looking embarrassed. “And I don’t want people butting in.”

“Fine, Dami,” Dick sighed. “But you and he tell in a week or I will.”

“Agreed,” Damian said. “They won’t like it…but agreed.”

Dick eyed Colin, still clad only in his ragged pants. He sighed. “Dami, mail Kori. Get him a suit.”

“What?” Colin asked.

“We’re asking Starfire for suggestions on getting you a costume that allows your powers so you don’t run out of clothes,” Damian translated, beginning the email. He glanced at Dick. “Hood and Robin _really_ won’t like that.”

“Oldest. Expertise,” Dick replied. He knew darn well the kid wouldn’t stop, might as well save his orphanage wardrobe money… “Abuse, want to learn to play with us big kids?”

Colin gave Damian a blank look.

“You want to work with us and maybe Batgirl sometimes?” Damian rephrased.

Colin’s face lit up.

.o.o.o.

“Dami’s back! And not grounded!”

Tim sighed, “What does he mean ‘not grounded’?”

“Guess the kid had a reason for not answering,” Jason said. “He’s Dick’s responsibility Tim. Just leave it.”

“I’m not complaining, it’s just Dick really seemed set on a grounding,” Tim said. “Must have been some reason…”

“No, no, more like…Bane’s build, really. You know who he is?” Damian said into Dick’s phone. “I don’t know…red and brown? Maybe some white? Do I look like a color coordinator to you?”

“Who is it?” Jason asked.

“Starfire. Um, redhead,” Damian answered another question. “My size. Uh huh, then Bane’s.”

“Lookout notice?” Tim guessed as Dick came up.

“You think Atom might know? Great, thanks.”

“Doesn’t hear you,” Dick said with a slight snicker.

“No really, I can—fine. Thank you, Starfire,” Damian said, hanging up. “…What?”

“What was that?” Tim asked.

“And why do you and your clothes look like you went through a meat-grinder?” Jason added, suddenly noticing Damian’s poor condition.

“…Ask him, he’s the oldest,” Damian said, pointing at Dick. “I’m going to bed.” He took off running.

Jason groaned, “Dick…”

“Dami made a friend,” Dick summarized. “And solved a case.”

“…What?” Tim asked as the oldest brother opened a case file on the computer. “Why are you opening the files on Zsasz and the case for— _oh my god_.” He huffed, “Never mind. I don’t want to know!”

“Tim. You’re you,” Jason said dryly as the third brother vainly attempted to not look at Dick’s report.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, some stuff will be revealed later, but as of now: Jason was the first Robin (Dick was still recovering from Talon training), Kon-El is currently ‘dead’ and the ages are: Dick—25, Jason—almost 21, Tim—16, and Damian—almost 10.  
> The rest is to be revealed, oh readers!


End file.
